It's Hard to Explain
by Sarah the What
Summary: Jack is a boy suffering from memory loss that would be willing to do anything to remember his past, and Hiccup is his new friend who would be willing to do anything to forget his. During their many adventures involving dangerous bikes, cute girls, and distant parents, both boys learn through each other that they can't continue living their lives in the past.
1. Wake Up

**Hello. So, I decided to write a thing, and I hope everyone enjoys it. **

Just want to point out that, yes, this fanfiction will be written entirely in first person. I've never seen one written in this way before, so I decided to accept the challenge and see what I could do. And because I just naturally write better in first person anyways. But if there's any confusion, it always bounces back and forth between Jack and Hiccup, and you can tell when it's changing narrators by the break in the text. Hope that's not too confusing!

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* * *

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Everything's black.

I'm awake and conscious, capable of feeling the world around me silently moving and shifting, but my eyes… they won't open. I know I'm not supposed to be in the dark like this, unable to see anything, but my eyelids feel like they've been sewn shut. All I can see is darkness, pure and horrifying darkness. The longer I don't do anything to make it go away, the more it wraps around me, swallowing me whole, making me feel small and vulnerable and weak.

The calmness I had felt only moments ago is suddenly replaced by fear. I can feel comfort being clawed away by the darkness, hooked fingers wrapping around my throat trying to suffocate me. I want to fight back, make this feeling stop before it gets worse, but I can't move, can't defend myself.

I don't like the darkness.

What is this? What is it called, to be afraid with your eyes closed?

Oh, yes. I remember the word now.

A nightmare.

It takes all my strength, and I know my fear plays more than just a minor role in it, but I somehow manage to open my eyes. I'm instantly blinded by a white light, causing me to recoil, going briefly back into the darkness as to get rid of the glare. By doing this, I feel fear taking me over again, so I fight back, trying to wrench my eyes back open. I can't go back into the darkness, not after discovering that it isn't my only option.

My eyes eventually adjust to the light, and I'm able to see my surroundings. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. Even the door is white. There's no windows that I can see. A painting of an odd structure riding waves sits on the wall across the room from me, the wooden frame, of course, white. What is that structure called? I can't seem to- oh. A boat. It's a boat.

I notice two chairs, more of a beige color than a white, I suppose, sitting in the corner, empty. I feel a peculiar feeling begin to form inside my chest, causing something inside of me to feel kind of… not there? I don't know, but staring at those bare chairs makes me feel… feel… ugh, what's the word?! Why can't I remember these simple words?

Oh. That's it.

Lonely.

Something inside of me starts to quicken at the realization of this odd, new feeling. I suddenly feel vulnerable all over again, but I can't explain why. Those chairs are threatening. Why do I feel so… so…

I hear a sharp reparative beeping coming from my other side, causing me jolt. I look down to see - oh my God, what _is that?_ I stare at the limp, white figure lying next to… me? Wait, is this thing buried under all these white sheets… _me?_ And that thing - that strange-looking figure with five limbs protruding from it - is that… is that a _part of me?_ I stare down at it, and with thinking one simple command - move - one of the smaller parts curl up. I don't know why, but this sends a warm sensation to pulse through me, causes me to forget that loneliness I had felt earlier.

I know what this is. It's my hand. Yeah, that's the word. My _hand._ And this. This mass under the blanket. It's my _body._

I feel this sudden, odd awareness, not of my hand or my body, but rather of my… my… oh wow. My _face._ I completely forgot about my face! Without thinking, my hand moves up and touches it, and I feel everything. My _nose._ My _eyelashes._ My _cheeks._ My _lips_. I don't know where the words come from or how I could possibly know them before now, but as soon I feel each separate feature, they come pouring into me, like I had always known them.

My hand lands on my lips again, and I feel them move under my touch, startling me, but I resist the urge to remove my fingers. I recognize this feeling, the position that my lips are forming into. The corners are high, moving into my cheeks, causing them to bunch up. My eyes, like my cheeks, bunch up a bit too, mostly from underneath. Without even having to think, the word comes to me.

A smile.

The beeping that startled me from before registers in my ears again - oh my God, I nearly forgot my _ears!_ - and I turn towards the sound. That's when I come face to face with dozens of bright screens, flashing unreadable words at me, and hundreds of unrecognizable tools and machines and pumps, and the more I stare at them, the more I feel that smile on my face begin to disappear. It isn't until I notice the cord - small and transparent - coming out from one of the machines, snaking its way through my sheets, and… wait. Is that… it's…

It's going _inside of me._

The beeping from one of the machines starts to speed up, but I ignore it. All I can seem to register is the fact that a tube is actually sticking into my arm, and I hadn't realized it until just now. I can feel it inside me, and I hate it. I want to yank it out, but I can't. That familiar feeling from before washes over me again, and the beeping is going crazy, and I hear something from outside the door - soft but quick - getting closer and closer, and my breathing is quickening, and I don't know what to do.

I'm scared. My eyes are wide open and I'm surrounded by all this white, yet I feel that same fear and darkness from when I had my eyes closed.

A sound comes from the other side of the room, and I look up to see a middle-aged woman wearing a light pink uniform making her way hurriedly towards me. I jump in my seat, surprised by her unannounced presence, which causes a sharp feeling like needles to pierce into my forehead. She notices me discomfort, the fear I feel at the mere sight of her. She puts her hands up slightly, I think in attempt to calm me.

"It's alright, dear," she says in a near whisper. "I'm not here to hurt you. It's okay."

I want to trust her - I know I _should_ trust her - but I can't completely. She looks sweet, like she does care for my well-being, but by the way she seems to know how to work the machines tells me she's the one that stuck this rotten cord into me.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" she asks after I start to calm down.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. As she continues to stare at me, waiting for a reply, I start to panic. I know what I want to say - the words are on the tip of my tongue - but why won't they come out? She's squinting her eyes at me, as if she's trying to read my mind, but all I can do in response is gape like a fish.

What is this? Why can't I talk? I know I can talk. She was talking to me earlier, so that must mean I can do it too. Why is nothing happening when I open my mouth though? What… what is this? What is _happening?_

"Can you… not talk?" I hear her ask me.

My first instinct is to nod my head, so I do just that. She shows she understands this simple gesture by nodding back and writing something down on her clipboard. I want to ask her what she's writing, but then I remember I can't talk.

"Does it hurt?" she asks me again.

The pain in my forehead becomes obviously apparent to me again, so I nod.

"Where?"

I move my hand from my side and touch my forehead, hoping this will answer her question. She seems to understand by the way she nods and writes something down on her clipboard again.

"Here," she says, placing the clipboard down and grabbing one of the odd tools from the counter beside me. "This will make you feel better, sweetie. Just give it a few minutes and you'll be fine." She takes the tool - it's long and has a sharp needle sticking out of one end of it - and slides the point into a small bottle, pulling out the liquid from inside. I want so badly to speak, to ask her what that bottle and tool is, and what she's doing with them, but, more importantly, I want to ask her who she is, where am I, and… who even _am I?_

Before I can get her attention again, maybe to ask her these questions somehow through simple gestures, I notice the people standing in the doorway.

The tallest one - a man - stands with his arm around the shoulder of the smaller woman positioned at his side. She has her hands drawn up to her mouth and her eyes are staring at me, filled with shock and even… are those _tears?_ They both have similar brown hair, only the woman's is darker and longer than the man's. And even the man. He's staring at me with such confusion, yet he seems maybe more happy to see me than the woman is. She looks more fearful than anything, and for some reason, this makes something in my chest ache. Why is she afraid to see me? Do I_ scare_ her?

My eyes move down, and that's when I notice the girl. She's tiny in comparison to the two adults, whom both stand behind her. She's probably around the age of eight or nine, but what do I know; I don't even know how old I am. She has the woman's same long, dark brown hair, falling over her shoulders and on top of the white dress she's wearing.

I look at her and I feel her eyes land on me. We're staring at each other - no - _into_ each other. When I locked eyes with the man and woman, I felt nothing, just their stares, but as I looking into this little girl's big, brown eyes, I feel something, something I can't put a name to quite yet. And her eyes. Instead of having the look of confusion or fear in them, they hold something new, something different, something I've never seen in another person's eyes before now.

All of the sudden, my eyes begin to feel heavy and mind begins to blur, but not fast enough to notice the edges of the girl's lips beginning to move upward. The woman in pink beside me asks a question, but the words don't make it to my ears, because all I'm doing is staring at the little girl as she smiles at me.

And then I'm gone.

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* * *

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I'm not awaken by my alarm going off or the sun peeking through my blinds, but rather the feeling of claws poking into my thigh. This method of being woken up doesn't really bother me, seeing as I've had a good five years to get used to it, but that doesn't stop me from pulling the covers over my head and letting out a groan of disapproval.

"Toothleeeeeeeess," I go, moving my legs around in an attempt to buck the cat off of my bed. "Stoooooooop. I wanna sleeeeeeeep."

In response, all I hear is a deep meow from the other end of the bed. There's a brief silence, in which I let out a sigh of relief, but then I hear him start to meow like crazy, going in full scales without stopping, reaching octaves I wasn't even aware he_ could_ reach.

I rip the sheets off myself, sit up, and make direct eye contact with the black cat. His bright green eyes stare back into mine as his ears fold back on to the top of his head; he's trying to pull the cute card on me, and I'm going to have to admit… it's working.

"WHY?" is all I say.

As if he understands what I'm asking him - which sometimes, I have to admit, it seems like he does - he walks across my lap and on to my cluttered nightstand. As I'm about to tell him to get down from there, since he's getting pretty close to knocking off the lamp, he perches right on top of the alarm clock, shining the lovely numbers of 6:45 at me.

I shoot him an irritated glare. "You woke me up fifteen minutes early, you know that?"

He lets out a small meow and paws at the clock, like he's reminding me of the time.

I let out a sigh and swing my legs over the side of the bed, running my hands over my face. "I could've _really _used an extra fifteen minutes of sleep, bud. Really."

He jumps back on to the bed, it creaking a little under his weight, and makes his way on to my lap, purring loudly and rubbing his black coat against my chest. There he goes again, trying to pull the cute card on me and, of course, succeeding.

"Yeah, yeah," I go, letting a laugh leak through my sleepy grin. "Good morning to you too, bud. Now let me go get ready. Don't wanna be late."

He quickly jumps off my lap, like he understands I mean business now. Standing up, I begin to wobble my way on my one leg to my conjoined bathroom, Toothless following me, like he's making sure I won't lose my balance and collapse on to the floor - like he could break my fall, the little furball. I'm not really afraid of my right foot slipping and having my body drop to the floor anymore; after having this one leg for most of my teen years, I've learned how to balance on it like I'm constantly walking on a trapeze wire. It took a lot of time and patience, but, hey, I didn't really have any other option.

I decide I can take a longer shower than I had originally planned, seeing as that stupid cat of mine decided to wake me up early, giving me extra time. That idea doesn't last very long though, since I almost completely nod off while the warm water soaks my body. Oh well. It was worth a shot.

After hobbling out of the shower and toweling off, I make my way back into my room to get ready for the busy day ahead of me. While I put on my prosthetic leg, Toothless does his usual pouncing and pawing at it until I playfully swat at him, causing him to retreat to sitting on my dresser, waiting for me to finish so I can pick out some clothes for the day. I follow him once all my parts are attached, and pull on a pair of boxers, some old khakis shorts I haven't worn since last summer, and a sleeveless shirt. Toothless has already put it upon himself to nudge his way into my sock drawer, now using his sharp, little teeth to make holes in the toes.

"I've had about enough of you today, _cat,"_ I threaten him, snatching the ruined socks from his grasp. He knows I'm just joking though; he places his front paws on the ledge of the drawer, folding his ears down, motioning me to stroke his head. I do so, mumbling something about an adoption center, which makes him try to nip at my fingers, but I'm too quick for him.

I make a point of being very quiet as I descend down the stairs and into the kitchen. My house's floor plan is really whacked up, having my room upstairs, and my dad's room right next to the kitchen that's located downstairs. I guess it made sense when it was being built, but now, it's more of just an inconvenience, especially for the mornings when I need to wake up early.

I stick to my usual breakfast: a bowl of Cheerios with a glass of milk, maybe a slab of toast with jam if I have the time before Fish is due to pick me up. Toothless stares me down from the kitchen counter until I remember to pour him his cat nibble, which he thanks me for by weaving through my legs, purring like a motor boat.

Fish arrives right at 7:30, but makes the grave mistake of knocking loudly on the door. I have to make a mad sprint to the front of the house, nearly slipping on the carpet lying in the foyer.

"Fish!" I hiss as I pull open the door.

"Oh, hey, Hic-!" he starts, but when he notices my strained expression, he stops. "What, why are you… oh!" His hands quickly go up to his mouth as his brown eyes grow wide. "Oh gods, I'm sorry! I completely forgot, Hiccup!"

I let out a sigh. "Nah, it's fine. Just… remember next time. I can't afford to wake Dad up. _You_ know how he gets…" Fish nods quickly, his eyes still opened wide. He knows exactly what I mean, considering he's had his fair share of sleepovers at my place, and a few of them have gone horribly wrong by one of us accidentally waking up my dad before 8:00. Definitely not a pretty sight.

"You ready to go then?" he asks, still whispering, but excitement seeping through his words.

"Yeah, let me just get my shoes," I tell him, pointing back inside. Toothless meows at me from on top of the living room sofa as I open the closet under the stairs and pull out my sneakers. By the look on his face, I can tell he knows he's about to be abandoned.

"Don't worry, bud," I assure him, patting him on the head. "I'll just be gone for the morning. We can play later, alright?" He answers me by batting away my hand, jumping down from the sofa's ledge, and darting up the stairs, probably to find sanctuary under my bed.

"Must be rough sometimes, y'know. Being a cat whose only friend is his owner," I hear Fish say sympathetically from the front door.

I throw him a look. "Don't give him an excuse for being a nuisance."

I lock the door behind me and the two of us make our way into Fish's old Civic parked on the curb. It smells a little like nacho cheese, and I'm a little confused by this, until I notice the cardboard container sitting right next to my feet. It has the remains of our nacho snack from a couple of days ago still inside.

"I think I've already told you this, like, oh, I dunno, _fifty thousand times,"_ I say, "but you really gotta clean out this landfill of a car of yours, Fish." I pull the bandana I have wrapped around my neck over my nose, and kick the container further under my seat, in an attempt to rid of its awful smell.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he replies under his breath. "I'll do it sometime this break, I promise."

"That's what you said during spring break."

"Yeah, well, you're not the _only_ one on my back about it now."

"Oh?"

"My mom's jumped on to the bandwagon recently too."

"Way to go, Mrs. Ingerman."

He shoots me a look as his car is brought to life, and I return it with a smile.

I don't know why either of us decided to do it, but Fish and I have pretty much sold our souls - at least for the summer - to my dad's old friend, Gobber, who runs a little lawn mowing/yard repair business during the summertime. What he does is hire out a batch of teen boys that want to make a few bucks, or just want something to do with all their newly found free time, and makes them wake up early to mow people's laws and trim people's hedges.

This is the first year Fish and I have decided to volunteer our time into this business. My dad had bugged me about it for the last couple of years, but he never really forced it, since he probably didn't believe I could even push a lawn mower to begin with, being as small and weak as I am. I had somewhat of a growth spurt during the school year though - if growing two inches and gaining ten pounds is considered a significant difference - so I guess I don't really have an excuse anymore. And besides. It was either pushing a piece of machinery around for a good four hours a day for four days out of the week, or babysitting my neighbor's five kids, the eldest being eight and the youngest two, every day of the week, being responsible for all the horrendous misfortunes those little devil-children chose to bestow upon me. You don't need to even know the kids personally to know why I decided to go with the lawn mowing job instead.

Since our town is kind of on the small-ish side, it only takes us a good twenty minutes to drive across town to Gobber's place. When we pull up to his driveway, which has a large white van occupying it with what looks like a couple of lawn mowers sitting in the back, I can see a group of other boys around our age all sitting on his porch, talking to one another and putting on their gear.

"Did you remember to put us as partners?" I ask Fish as we get out of his car. The last thing I need is to be partnered up with some guy that either a.) I don't know, or b.) hates me. This fear becomes even more real when I notice one of the boys - I think he's a year older than us - look our ways and roll his eyes.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Fish tells me, slapping me on the back, making me almost fall on to my face. "I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourself."

I throw him a look. "Gee, thanks."

Right as we approach the porch, Gobber makes his way out to greet us and fill us in with instructions on what exactly we're going to be doing.

"We'll all be travelin' together in this here van, you lot," he explains in his thick Scottish accent as he guides us towards said van. "I'll be droppin' you 'n' yer partner off at yer designated house, 'n' there, you'll have a good couple of hours to mow 'n' trim 'n' do whatever yer supposed to do. At around, eigh, say 10:30, I'll make me rounds 'n' pick each of ye up, then drive ye lot to yer next house, where you'll repeat the process. Once noon hits, I'll pick ye all up again, drop ye off here, and you'll all be free to go. Any questions?"

Everyone's silent, and Gobber, being the man who sticks to the schedule he's given, doesn't wait one more second to get us all piled into the van and on our way's to our first house. The eight of us are all crammed awkwardly in the back with the four lawn mowers and hedge clippers we're to use. Luckily, I'm squeezed between Fish and the passenger's seat, so I don't have to deal with making contact with one of the other boys. That doesn't mean, however, that I wasn't noticed.

"What's _he_ doin' here?" a boy with thick red hair sitting across from me asks his friend, who snickers. At seeing that he has my attention, he smirks and says, "You better be clippin' hedges, Haddock. I'm pretty sure Gobber here doesn't want to have to deal with you being too weak to push a lawn mower and bein' chopped to pieces or whatever by it."

A few of the other boys laugh, and Fish tells them to all be quiet. It's Gobber in the end that yells at all of us to shut up, which we all do, since you don't not listen to a man of his size. As the other guys are all hushing up, looking a little frightened by Gobber's outburst, I notice Gobber shoot me a little sympathetic look from the driver's seat, and I feel this pain grow in my stomach. If there's one thing I hate, it's getting special treatment just because I'm smaller than the rest of the guys, or because my dad's my dad, whom plays a pretty big role in our town when it comes to business.

I look away from Gobber and, as I move to look down at my feet, I accidentally lock eyes with the red head boy from before. He shoots me this glare, and I quickly divert my eyes downward.

Something's telling me this is going to be long summer.

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* * *

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After a couple of days of being in the - what did they call it? Oh yeah. The_ hospital_ - I'm told that I'm well enough to be allowed to see and speak to any visitors that come to visit me. The only problem with this is that, one, I'm still unable to actually "communicate" with anyone besides using gestures, so there goes me being allowed to speak to my visitors, and two, no one but that little girl comes to visit me; but I don't mind this. I discover that she's all the company that I really need.

Her name is Emma, and she tells me she's my little sister, making me her big brother. She's nine, and she tells me that I'm seventeen, so I suppose that makes me her _really _big brother.

I want to ask her why I'm here, but she always seems so pleased to see me, running in when she arrives and wrapping her little arms around me, whispering that she missed me so much during the night she had to spend alone. Then she proceeds to tell me about what she did that day with her little friends from school, and I have no time or really any desire to interrupt her looking so full of life and excitement.

My parents, on the other hand, seem to have the opposite reaction to my presence. They stop by every day with Emma - only, when they're in the room, the little girl finds refuge in one of the beige chairs in the corner, not saying a word. It's very unlike her, but I never question her on it.

The man I've been told to call Dad usually does most of the talking, be it to me or the doctor accompany us at the time. We've never talked about anything particularly personal either; what's mostly murmured between the two men are large words I don't understand that Emma claims are medical terms I shouldn't worry about. However, even when a doctor isn't present, my father just tells me that they'll be letting me out of here anytime now, and not to worry about it. I'm honestly not that worried about it, since I wasn't even aware that there was anything to worry about, but I can't talk and he barely ever locks eyes with me, so I never have the chance to tell him this.

Then there's the woman I've been told to call Mom. For some reason, I get an abhorrent feeling in my chest when she's present, mostly when she's looking at me, which isn't very often. She stands beside my father, a grim look on her face as she looks anywhere but at the person speaking or, more normally, me. When she leaves, she usually whispers a soft goodbye, no eye contact made. She once kissed me on the forehead, during one of her earlier visits, but as she left that day, I heard her break into tears, collapsing in on my father only a couple of doors down. Ever since then, she's never attempted to make contact with me.

Somehow I'm able to ask Emma through gestures what their deal with me is, but she just shrugged and tells me not to mind them. All she would let me know was that I had been in an accident that resulted in me losing my memory, and that they were really worried and were afraid that I wasn't going to make it. I just learn to assume that they're shocked by the fact that I'm still here and don't know how to react to it. This reasoning is good enough for me.

Mostly though, it's Emma who visits. On one particular day, she brings with her a book she tells me she's borrowing from the library, which she also tells me is a place where they store many books for anyone to check out and read at any time, which I think is a funny, yet interesting concept. I make her promise to take me to one of these library places after I get out of here, and she crosses her heart that she will.

"But check out this book I got," she tells me, taking a seat on the side of my bed, pulling the thick book into her tiny lap. "It's all about this thing called 'folklore'."

I give her a confused look, and she explains.

"Folklore is, like, stories and legends that people say aren't real, when really, they are. Well, at least _I_ think so." I chuckle at her determination at being right as she peers down at the book, flipping from page to page, appearing to be looking for something in specific. "Like this guy!" she suddenly announces, flipping the book around so I can see.

I lean forward in my bed to see a pencil drawing of a rather large looking fellow carrying a bunch of odd-looking toys in his wide arms. I look up at her with an expression that asks her to explain.

"You don't remember Santa Claus?" she asks, looking bewildered. I just shrug, feeling a little embarrassed by this, but she gives me one of her sweet smiles in return, the corners of her eyes crinkling up as she does it. "It's okay. I didn't really expect you to remember him anyways. He's this guy that comes during Christmas - do you remember what Christmas is?"

I shake my head.

"Oh… well… it's this day during the month of December that people celebrate for some reason. I think it has something to do with Jesus? I dunno, but what I _do_ know is that all the kids get tons and tons of presents! And do you know who_ gives_ them those presents?"

I shake my head again.

She pulls the book up again for me to see and points at the man she earlier called Santa. "This guy right here! He spends every day of the whooooole year making thousands on top of thousands of toys to give to every kid in the world on Christmas!"

I feel my eyebrows rise up to my forehead, feeling impressed by this task that even I think sounds impossible. I want to ask her more about the man - how he does something like that in one simple night, and how he gets from house to house - but I can't get the words out. I suppose I'll just have to somehow ask her if I can borrow the book to read after she leaves.

Emma flips through some more pages, her eyes moving rapidly from left to right, like she can't even keep up with herself. She finally lands on something she likes, because she flips the book back to where I can see and points at what appears to be a drawing of a small rabbit surrounded by dozens of colorful eggs.

"This is the Easter Bunny!" she tells me. "He's kinda like Santa, only he comes on Easter. Do you remember Easter?"

I shake my head.

"That's okay. It's kinda like Christmas, only you have to search for the eggs the Easter Bunny leaves outside rather than being given presents. I think it also has something to do with Jesus, but I can't be sure. Anyways. He's pretty cool. He gives kids chocolate, which is yum yum yummy!"

Her visit with me that day goes on like this; her flipping through that book that's almost too large for her to carry in her arms, her round face lighting up instantly as she finds something that pleases her. She shows me each folklore's picture, explaining to me who they are, telling me stories to make them seem more real. She tells me about the Tooth Fairy, a little woman that comes during the night and takes children's lost teeth, replacing them with quarters - how strange. She tells me of the Sandman, a man who conjures up what she calls "dream-sand" that allows children to fall asleep and have sweet dreams - how even _more_ strange. The list goes on, picture after picture of odd-looking men and women, animals and creatures I've never seen before. They're all pretty interesting, considering my state and not being able to remember any of them from my own childhood.

One in specific catches my attention though.

She almost skips him entirely, but when I catch a glimpse of his white hair, his bizarre looking wooden staff, I place my hand on his page, signaling for her to stop flipping.

Her eyes meet mine, and then she looks down at who I've stopped on.

"Jack Frost?"

I grab the book from her, moving the picture closer to me so I can observe the details of it. He's a young boy, maybe around my age, and his hair is white like the ice designs coming from his pale fingertips. His bare feet walk upon a frozen lake, and snowflakes surround him as he looks off into the empty, dark night.

"You know," I hear Emma say as I continue to take this boy in. "Jack Frost _does_ kind of remind me of you…"

I look up at her quickly, giving her a confused look.

"Well, yeah," she goes on. "You both have the same white hair, and even your eyes are blue - I mean, I _think _his eyes are blue. It's kinda hard to see them in that picture. But he's pale and…"

I don't hear her go on with her reasoning on why this Jack Frost character and I are similar, because it's suddenly hits me that… well, that I don't even know what I look like. I've been sitting in this bed for nearly a week now, and not once have I even asked myself what I look like to other people. Is my hair really white like Emma claims? How could that be? My parents and even my little sister here all have brown hair. And blue eyes? They all have brown! How is that even _possible?_

I look down at my hands to see that, yes, they're what would probably be considered pale. Comparing them to Emma's peach colored shade, I look almost paper white in comparison. I grab a lock of my hair and pull it down to where I can see it crossing my eyes, and there it is. White. White as snow. White as…

White as frost.

Emma has stopped talking by now. Her gaze is fixed on me, a concerned, yet curious expression held on her features. I can tell she wants to know what I'm thinking, so I decide to try and tell her in words she can understand.

I point to the young boy in the book, tapping on specifically him several times. When she nods her head, telling me she understands, I points at myself and open my mouth and try to speak.

"J-J-"

Emma's eyes grow large as she sees what I'm trying to do. She sits up on the bed, leaning towards me like she's beckoning for me to finish my thought.

"What?" she asks. "J-J-. What are you trying to say?"

I take a deep breath and practically stab myself in the chest, my eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"J-Ja-Jaaa-"

"What? Ja- what?"

"J- Ja-ack-k."

She takes a sharp breath inward, falling back on to her bottom next to my covered legs beside her. Her eyes remain wide as she stares at me, like she can't believe what she has just heard. I don't blame her; I can barely believe it either.

I lick my lips and point at myself again. "J-Jack."

That smile I've learned to love appears on her face again as she calms down. She points her tiny finger at me and simply says, "Jack?"

I nod my head. "Jack."

"You… you wanna be called… Jack?"

I nod again, this time letting a laugh escape my lips.

She laughs at the foreign sound, since that's the first time I've ever outright laughed while I've been here - I've chuckled, I've even giggled, I'll admit. Laughed though. Never. Well, not until now.

"Okay," she says, still shooting me her warm smile. "You can be Jack. But not Jack _Frost_. That'd be too weird."


	2. Sticks and Stones

**Wow! I had a great response to this! **

Thanks all you beautiful people oh-so much for all the lovely reviews and everything! I seriously thought no one would give this story the time of day, but I guess I was wrong? But seriously, thank you all so, so much! Means a ton!

I do, however, have some not so great news. The next update might be some time from now, since I'm being sent away to summer camp this Thursday. Don't worry! It's not like I'm going to be gone for a month, no. I'll be back from camp that following Monday, so yeah. I have the next chapter all planned out, and I'll try and write as much as I can before I leave, but no update until probably a week from now. Sorry about that guys, but y'know. I look forward to going to camp all year, so don't wanna miss this.

Oh, and a little comment concerning the story and potential ships, because I know you're all curious with where this is going. And I'm going to be completely honest with you when I say I HAVE NO IDEA. In all honestly, I'm just going to flow with it. I may lose readers because of this, but ah well.

But that's enough of that. To chapter two!

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* * *

.

"You almost done, Hic?"

Having somehow been able to hear Fish over the lawn mower in front of me, I reply back with a, "Yeah! Just one more sec!"

He signals that he had heard me by throwing me a quick thumbs up, and then points towards the gate separating the front yard from the back, saying something I can't hear. By the way he starts marching towards it, his hedge clippers in hand, I guess he's going to wait on the curb for me. Better finish this job quickly then. Not only do I not want to keep Fish waiting, but I also don't want to keep Gobber waiting when he shows up. That wouldn't end well.

Luckily for me, I'm already pretty much finished. I cut the lawn mower off a moment later and stand back to admire my work. It's already the third day of doing this kind of work, and I'm going to have to admit, I've learned to respect grass and people who mow it. It may not look like much - just pushing a large piece of machinery back and forth for hours on end - but man, after spending a good five hours this week doing just that, I've learned to see it as more of an art form.

Gods, I'm _so glad_ I have Thursday and Friday off after today. I think I'm going a little crazy because of this grass cutting.

Taking one last look at the freshly cut lawn, I grab the mower and push it through the gate and into the front yard. Fish is already sitting on the curb, taking a long drink from his water bottle. When he hears me approaching - which isn't really that hard with that loud piece of metal in tow - he throws me a smile.

"Just one more house," he says, the spout of his water bottle still in his mouth.

"Just one more house," I say back. I plop down next to him and take my water bottle out. I only have about a quarter left after I take a swig from it, so I remind myself to get it refilled in the van once Gobber gets us.

"Whatcha wanna do once we're done today?" Fish asks me after a minute. "I feel like we should do something special, since it's the end of our first week of havin' jobs."

"I dunno," I say. "Go home and sleep?"

"But that's what you've been doing _every day_ this week so far!"

"Fine. Go home, take a shower, _then_ sleep."

"Oh, haha, you're _so clever_, Hiccup."

"I try."

As Fish continues to pester me about after work plans, mentioning something about going to The Ring to get some lunch, I notice a group of kids on bikes turn the street corner and start heading towards us. I'm admiring one of the bike's nice paint jobs - a reddish orange hue with blotchy, black stripes in various sizes covering the frame - when I realize there's only one person in this town that would have that kind of paint job.

"And if we _do_ end up going to The Ring for lunch, we can try to sit in _Astrid's_ section," I hear Fish continue to try to persuade me. "That way maybe you could kinda, sorta try to ask her if she wants to-"

"As great as that sounds," I interrupt, having barely heard a word he's said," I think we have bigger problems on our hands right now, Fish."

He shoots me a confused look, and I cock my head towards the three teenagers now approaching us. His face falls once he sees who they are.

"Don't listen to a thing he says, alright, Hiccup?" he tells me sternly, his joking tone completely evaporated from his voice. "He's just going to try and bring you down and you shouldn't-"

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here," the thick boy riding the red and black bikes greets us as he skids to a stop. His stringy, dark brown hair is almost completely hidden under a lame bike helmet with two goat horns sticking out of it, in an attempt to look like a Viking's helmet. The two other teens behind him, whom I recognize as Ree and Tee - also known as the Thorston twins - also sport similar helmets, only their horns aren't quite as big as their leader's. I swear, some of the kids here take the fact that our school's mascot is the Viking too seriously.

"What do _you_ want, Lout?" I hear Fish spit back at the boy, and I have to fight back a smile from peeling across my face. Fish may be a big sweetheart most of the time, but get on his bad side and, oh, you're in lots of trouble, my friend.

Lout leans forward on his bike's handlebars, his arms crossed as he shoots me this devilish grin that I've learned to hate since we were kids. "I was just wondering how two losers like you guys could _possibly _convince Gobber to let you work for him. Am I right or what, guys?"

"Yeah!" Tee, the male twin, goes in agreement. "Gobber must have been real desperate this year or something."

Ree, his twin sister, lets out a laugh, and I can feel Fish next to me about to speak up again, only Lout beats him to it.

"I mean, I get Fish and all, since he's big and stuff and can actually _help_ out, but Hiccup? Wee little Hiccup Haddock here." He says this in his best attempt of a baby's voice, leaning over his handlebar and reaching out to pinch my cheeks, like he always does. I'm not really in the mood to deal with this kid's crap right now, so, without thinking, I raise my hand and smack his away from me, causing Fish to let out a sharp gasp. Lout's hand hovers in air for a moment as our eyes meet and I try and give him the hardest glare I can muster, which probably really isn't that terrifying, not going to lie.

Lout just smirks at this, crossing his arms again on his handlebar. "Nice try, Haddock, but you're going to have to try a little harder than that to scare me. Let's get outta here, guys. Don't want to give 'em the idea that we actually _like_ talking to them."

Once they're out of ear shot, I finally say what's on my mind.

"What is his _deal?"_

Fish sighs next to me. "I'd tell you if I knew."

"Have I even told you that we_ actually_ used to get along?" I say, and he shakes his head, looking a little astonished by this information. "Yeah, like, way, _waaaaay _back when we were kids. Whenever our families would have a reunion or whatever, our parents would stick us together and we'd play and it was great! But then school started, and he turned into an asshole that likes to pick on me every time he gets the chance."

"I always forget he's your cousin," Fish says quietly next to me. "Your dads are brothers, right?"

I let out a scoff. "I don't even know anymore. All I know is that 'he's family' and that I need to 'treat him like it'."

"I feel like you're quoting someone."

"I am. My dad."

"Ah."

At that moment, I notice a white van making its way towards us and I let out a sigh of relief. If only Gobber had arrived a little earlier, than I wouldn't have had to deal with Lout proving his manliness to his thick-headed friends by pointing out the little amount of manliness I have.

I push the lawn mower into the back of the van as Fish hops in and heads straight to the water barrel with our empty water bottles. Once I have the mower all strapped in, I tell Gobber, and we're on our way to our next house.

"Where to next, Gob?" Fish asks, taking a seat in the gap between the driver's and passenger's seat, so he can talk to Gobber.

"You two know 'bout the ol' Root place, right?" he asks us as I jump over Fish and take a seat in the passenger's seat. "Place where ye lots parents always warned ye 'bout trespassin' on when ye were wee things."

"Yeah, that old, abandoned house out on the outskirts of town," Fish confirms.

"Why are we going there?" I ask. "No one's lived there since old man Mildew died, and that was a good five years ago. That place is probably, like, a haunted house now."

Fish shoots me a concerned look. "Wait. Are you telling me there's _ghosts _there?"

I shrug. "I don't see why not. I mean, the old geezer did _die_ inside the house, so I guess it'd make sense of his ghost still roams the halls of the place, haunting all the kids that go and trespass on his land. He probably has that old cane of his in tow too, ready to bash in heads or whatever."

Gobber, without taking his eyes off the road, smacks me on the back of the head, and Fish lets out a nervous laugh behind us.

"A new family's movin' in," Gobber continues to explain. "Got the place all nice and cleaned up too. Now it's up to you two to make the yard presentable."

"When are they moving in exactly?" Fish asks.

"Today."

"Today!?" I go. "And we're expected to have the yard all done _before_ they arrive?"

"Ah, no, no," Gobber laughs. "I talked to the new owners and they're 'right with ye two boys workin' while they move things in. Just try 'n' get the front done first so ye not in the way of them bringin' in their things, 'right?"

"Fine. Alright."

"Got it!"

A good five minutes later, we arrive at our destination, and Gobber's right; the place actually doesn't look as bad as I remember. Fish and I sometimes used to bike pass Mildew's old place, after he had died of course, so we wouldn't have to worry about him running out and threatening us with his cane. Every time we did pass by though, I always got this weird feeling from it; the paint chipping from its exterior, those gaping windows staring down at us. Something about it just felt wrong, and I was never able to place it. Now though. I don't know, but whoever fixed this place up must have been a miracle worker of some kind, because now even _I _wouldn't mind living here.

"Ye boys got two hours," Gobber tells us as I unload the lawn mower from the back and on to the dirt road. "But, since the lawns pretty big, if ye need some extra time, that's 'right. Just remember what I said 'bout-"

"Getting the front done before they arrive, I gotcha, Gob," I finish for him, and he points at me approvingly.

"Good luck, boys."

"Thanks, Gob. See ya soon."

Fish is already heading towards the wild hedges as Gobber's van pulls away from the curb and heads down the dirt road. I push the lawn mower to the far corner of the yard, near this old oak tree that we used to like to climb as kids just to get on Mildew's nerves, and line it up with the edge of the grass. Better get started on this now. Two hours, when spent doing the same old thing over and over again, can actually go by a lot faster than one would think, and I don't have much time to waste here.

.

* * *

.

This is the first time I've ever laid eyes on another human being before - besides my parents, Emma, and the doctors at the hospital, of course.

I stand in front of the moving truck as my father makes his way across our new home's front lawn, towards a small boy with auburn hair who's turning off this weird metal contraption. My father, who's wearing a nice button down shirt tucked into his pants, looks oddly out of place next to this boy, who's sporting a white, sleeveless shirt, some baggy shorts, boots, and a baseball cap. Another boy, larger than the other with a mess of dirty blonde hair also hidden under a baseball cap, joins them as my father and the smaller boy talk.

I can't help myself. These are the two first people I've seen outside of the hospital, and I can't stop staring. I know staring is wrong - that's what Emma's told me - but I can't help myself. They look so close to my age. I wonder what their names are, what they're doing here, if they live in this small town, if I'll ever see them again.

"Jack?" I hear a small voice chirp behind me. I turn to see Emma standing by my side, her small box full of her belongings in her short arms. Like her, I have a similar box in my arms, filled with a couple of books I've been told I like, several thick disks that my father called "hockey pucks" which are part of a sport I apparently like to play, a snow globe given to me by a forgotten grandparent I'll never meet, and various other small items, too easily lost to put in one of the bigger boxes in the back of the moving truck.

"Yes?" I go in response, letting her know she has my attention.

"You okay? You seemed a little… I dunno."

I nod my head with a smile and slowly tell her, "I'm okay." Ever since that day I first spoke to Emma in the hospital, I've been getting the hang of this whole talking thing. I still struggle with most words, but I'm honestly just thrilled I can finally communicate with more than just gestures.

Emma nudges me with her head, returning my smile. "Let's go inside then, you goofball. Daddy told me where your room is, so I can show it to you so you can unpack!"

I nod and follow her as she makes her way through the yard, skipping and humming as she goes. I can't help but steal a glimpse at the boys again, but I quickly divert my eyes when I notice they're already looking back at me.

On walking through the front door, I suddenly realize just how big this house really is. Emma had told me on the drive here that our parents had bought what she explained to me was something she called a "mansion". When I asked my father about this, he just laughed and said that it's not a mansion, but it's bigger than your average house.

"This _is_ like a mansion," I say under my breath as I look up at the two-story ceiling overhead. There appears to be several odd structures hanging down from up there, and I remember those are called "lights" and that they illuminate dark places. Looking back down at eye level as Emma says something to me that I don't hear, I notice a semi-spiral staircase leading up to the second story of the house, where I assume our bedrooms are located.

Emma nudges me again, taking me out of my state of observation. "Let's go find your room, Jack!" she says, already running towards the stairs. I don't hesitate to follow her, suddenly becoming quite nervous, yet excited to see this place she keeps referring to as "my room".

The room is the first to the left in the hallway upstairs, and is about the same size as the hospital room I had been kept in earlier that week, only the walls are a light blue rather than a white, and there's a large window on the opposite end from where the door sits. The floor is wooden rather than tile, and the frame of what I assume is to be my bed and a bookshelf are already here.

"I'm gonna go put my stuff away, okay, Jack?" I hear Emma tell me. "I'll be back to help you when I'm done, I promise!"

"Okay," I say, but I don't think she hears me since she's already bolted out the door.

My room.

When I had been staying at the hospital, they always referred to the space I was kept in as "my room", yet it never really felt like mine. I learned that there were people before me that had lain in that very bed, overcoming sickness and disease, just as I had. Knowing that made staying there even more unbearable than it had already been.

This place though. This little room made of four walls, a ceiling and floor, two doors, and a window doesn't feel like "my room" back at the hospital. This is my place, and there's no one to share it with and no one that came before it or will be coming after it.

I like this room.

Feeling the weight still in my arms from the box full of my possessions, I walk over to the bare bookshelf and softly place each book on its shelves. I assume that what I'm doing is logical, considering it's called a _book_shelf and these_ are_ books. Once each book is placed side by side, I place the snow globe in front of them, as to keep them from sliding down. I shake it before I do this though, watching the white substance dance around the small village contained inside the glass dome. For some reason, watching the white substance that Emma told me is supposed to be something called "snow" makes me grin so much, my cheeks start to hurt.

After placing the rest of my belongings on the bookshelf and putting the box down on my bed frame, I approach the lone window. There's a ledged area cut out right in front of it, where I assume one can sit and read and look out from. I climb on to it and take a peek out the window, revealing a view of the front lawn I had been out on only moments before. I had expected to see the two boys and my father still chatting outside, but, to my disappointment, they're no longer there. I wonder where they wandered off to.

"Hey, C- I mean, Jack."

Turning away from the window and towards the voice, I see my father standing right outside the doorway, carrying in his arms what appears to be something I heard my mother refer to earlier as a "nightstand". He appears to be struggling to keep a firm grasp on it however.

"Think you can give me a hand here, son?"

"Okay."

I jump up and dash across the room, planting my hands, like his, underneath the structure. It's heavier than I expected, but with my father's help, we move it across the room and right beside the bed.

"You want to help me with bringing up the rest of your furniture?" he asks. "There's just a desk, a dresser, and a chair left, so not that much."

I nod my head enthusiastically, happy to be of help. Emma had told me that, because I'm a guy, our father may ask me to help him with moving furniture into the house, especially the larger articles. At first, I was a little anxious about this idea, since I'll admit that I don't feel quite as close to my parents as I feel I should be. When I had been in the hospital, I saw plenty of other children my age, even younger, alongside their parents, and the relationships I saw between them were very different from mine. My parents have proven to be the distant type, my father because he thinks I need some space to come to terms with the world around me, and my mother… well, I still don't necessarily know _her _reasoning for not striking up conversations or even locking eyes with me, but I know it's not normal.

Hearing that my father actually wants my help though, wants to work on a task with me alongside him; it makes me happy. It makes me feel almost normal.

So, for the next twenty minutes, we carry the last few pieces of furniture for my room up the curved stairs, which proves to be a real challenge at first, but we somehow manage. Every time we have to stop because his back is starting to hurt, I can't help but laugh a little and playfully point out how old he's getting, to which he always shots me a grin and says something about how I'll won't be laughing one day.

Once we're done bringing in the rest of the furniture for my room, I ask him if he needs any more help with the other rooms, but he says it's fine.

"We're not supposed to strain you too much," he informs me, taking a look around my now completely furnished bedroom. "Don't want to break you, you know." He smiles at the last part, so I smile back, even though I don't necessarily understand how one can "break" another person.

He leaves after that, saying something about how I can maybe help my mother with dinner downstairs, but it doesn't register because Emma skips in, that beautiful smile of hers glowing on her childish face.

"Wanna go exploring?" she asks, taking my hand in hers.

I smile. "Okay."

She shows me her room, which has purple walls and two windows instead of one, and has all her furniture and stuffed animals in it already. After she tells me the names of each one, we move into the office across the hall from our rooms. There's only a desk and chair in it so far, but Emma says that our father has a lot of bookshelves for this room so he can store his "zillions of books". We then go downstairs and explore the living room, which is also fully furnished, minus a coffee table and television stand. The dining room next door has yet to be filled, but there's something about the emptiness of the large room that makes me want to spin around in circles. I don't fight the urge and I start to spin, and Emma joins in only seconds later. We're turning in circles, looking up at the ceiling, laughing, when I hear someone sternly say, "Stop it!" and I quickly stop, having a hard time from collapsing because of the dizziness overcoming me.

Standing at the entrance to the room is my mother, wearing an apron and her hair pulled back into a long ponytail. The expression her face doesn't seem to show that she's angry, like her voice sounded, but more… concerned? I'm not sure if that's the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

"Sorry," is all I can think of to say back. I try locking eyes with her, but she quickly looks down at floor, avoiding my glance.

"It's… I don't want you to get hurt," she tells me, then abruptly turns and walks out of the room.

I look at my surroundings, wondering how in the world I could possibly hurt myself when there's nothing to hurt myself on. Peering down at Emma with a questioning look, she just shrugs and asks me if I want to go explore the backyard patio.

Our adventure to the outside is cancelled however by our father telling us we can't because of the boys doing the yard work. As Emma lets out a groan of disappointment, I look out the window and notice the same two boys from before. The larger one has what look like to be a blown up pair of scissors in his gloved hands that he's using to hack away at the bushes with, and the smaller one is pushing that weird contraption around again.

"What is thing he's pushing?" I ask Emma after we retreat back upstairs. "The small boy."

"Oh?" she goes. "You mean the lawn mower?"

"Lawn… mower?"

She laughs at my confusion. "Yeah, it's called a lawn mower, Jack! It cuts the grass."

"So… it like… the ground is getting a… a…" I can't seem to find the word I'm looking for, so I move my hand up into my hair, shaping my fingers to look like scissors and pretending to snip pieces of my hair off.

"A haircut?" Emma guesses.

"Yes."

She glances out the window at the boy pushing the _lawn mower_ - wow, what an odd name for such a machine - and giggles, covering her mouth with her tiny hands. "Yeah, I guess it is like the ground is getting a haircut. I've never thought of it like that." Looking away from the window and back at me, she gives me this funny look I can't quite decode. When I ask her what's wrong, she simply says, "You really do look at the world a lot different now that you have to relearn everything, don't you? Like, everything must be just so…so_ weird_ in your eyes."

I shrug.

"I've lived my whole life knowing that that's a lawn mower and that it cuts the grass, and I've never really questioned it. But you. Wow. That must be really weird, huh?"

I shrug again, unable to think of a real reply. I guess, yeah, it is kind of weird, the position I'm in, having to relearn everything that normal kids my age learned so many years ago. I don't really know any other way though. This constant learning of new terms and words; this is my life now. And quite honestly, I don't half mind it.

.

* * *

.

"I wonder who that kids was."

"Hm?" I look up from the plastic menu in my hands and at Fish, sitting across the metal table from me. He has his meaty legs kicked up on the empty chair next to him, playing with the bill of his hat as he looks back at me.

"The kid we saw while at Mildew's old place, remember?"

"Oh yeah." I look back down at the menu.

There's a beat, then Fish adds, "He had white hair."

"Yeah."

"That's kinda weird."

"Probably bleaches it or something," I say. "Hey, are you gonna order anything or…?" I pass the menu his way, but he just waves it away, pulling the hat back on to his sweaty head.

"Hiccup, I've lived in this town since I was born, and I've come to this restaurant since I was nine," he tells me for the thousandth time. "Trust me when I say that I know what I want."

I shrug. "Suit yourself."

Placing the menu back down on the table, I lean back some in my chair and close my eyes, listening to the birds in the tree next to our table sing. Despite having to mow two yards today in this blistering heat, I'm going to have to admit that it's rather nice outside. That's something I love about The Ring, the restaurant that Fish and I and dozens of other kids our age go to to hang out and get our greasily unhealthy food fix. In the center of the lot there's the kitchen, and around that, going in - you guessed it - a ring shape, are a couple dozen tables, all outside with umbrellas providing shade. It's the perfect place to go and chill on a deadly hot day like this, when you still want to be outside, but not all gross and sweaty.

"Do you think he's in our grade?" I hear Fish ask, and I let out a sigh. So much for a relaxing afternoon, enjoying the sounds of nature. Fish is the last person you want to possibly have around if you want some peace and quiet I've discovered over the years.

"I dunno," I say, going along with it, my eyes still shut. "He looked a little older than us. Why does it matter?"

"No reason other than just wondering," he admits. "It's not like everyday someone new moves to Berk, y'know? Especially someone 'round our age."

"True."

My eyes snap open when I hear the sound of blades on concrete rolling towards us. As I turn my head in the direction of the sound, there stands a small, but somewhat muscular, blonde girl, her hands on her hips and roller skates on her feet.

"Hey, you two," she goes, smirking at us. "You guys here to bother me while at work or something? Better not get me fired, like last time."

"Nope! Not today!" Fish goes, shooting a smile her way.

"Surprisingly enough, we're actually here to _eat_," I add on, and she just rolls her eyes.

She flips out a little red notepad and matching pen, brushing her side bangs out of her pretty, round face. "Well, if _that's_ what you're here for, what'll it be?"

"The usual," Fish says.

She jots something down in her notepad, smirking again. "Got it. And you, Haddock?"

"I'll try the number seven today, please and thank you, miss."

She takes the menu from my outstretched hand after writing down my order. "I don't think I've ever had your scrawny ass order the same thing twice in a row, you know that," she reminds me. "Wish you just had a usual, like Fish here. Kinda annoying, if you ask me."

"Yeah, well…" I lean my head back so I can see her from under the brim of my hat, and shoot her a smile. "You know me, Astrid."

She hits me right on the face with the menus. "Yeah. Sadly."

Before I can say any form of a comeback, she's off, gliding between tables and other waitresses delivering other people's orders. I watch her go, her thick legs pushing her body until she gets to the ordering station to tell the cooks our order. I hear Fish laughs next to me, taking a sip from his drink and saying something about how she "got me good" this time.

"You should ask her out," he adds suddenly.

"But she hates me guts."

"Oh, come on, Hiccup. She doesn't _hate your guts_. If she hated your guts, she wouldn't even give you the time of day, which she totally does! She just… doesn't always appreciate your presence every time she sees you."

"Gee, Fish. You really know how to make a guy feel confident."

"I'm just saying you should make a move before someone else does, that's all."

"Says the guy who can barely get a sentence out when he's around _his _crush," I tease, throwing a salt packet his way. He deflects it with his hand, shooting me a look.

"That's not fair," Fish fights back. "I haven't known her for as long as you've known Astrid. I mean, how long have you guys known each other again?"

I let out a huff, folding my arms across my chest. "Sincewewereeight."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I don't believe I caught that."

I glare over at Fish, which he returns with a smug smile. "Since. We. Were. Eight."

"That's what I thought."

It's then that Astrid rolls up with our meals, both sitting on a turquoise tray balanced on her hand. I thank the gods for her superb timing.

"I got a usual," she goes, tossing the double stacked cheese burger with extra pickles and mayonnaise Fish's way. He snatches it in the air, licking his lips at just the feeling of it in his hands. "And a number seven," she adds, tossing me my simple cheese burger with additional bacon bits. As we unwrap our burgers, I notice her look over towards the ordering station, like she's checking to see if anyone's watching her, and then slinks into a chair across from us.

"You two going to this weekend's race?" she asks. "I heard Lout's been working extra hard on this new trick where her pops a wheelie and has one foot on his handlebars and starts flexing or something egotistical like that." She rolls her eyes, brushing her messy braid over her shoulder. "What a perfect asshole, right?"

"We saw him earlier today," Fish tells her, sinking his teeth into his burger. "He got a new paint job."

"Oh yeah? What's it _this_ time?"

"A reddish orange with black stripes," I tell her, still unwrapping my burger. The employees here that wrap these things are professionals at it, I swear. I usually end up just having to grab a chunk, peel, and hope for the best.

Astrid rolls her eyes again, resting her head in her palm. "How original. But are either of you two going to race against him? I would, but my baby's in the shop getting some new special wheels. They're supposed to make her faster. Super excited about it."

"I can't," Fish confesses with disappointment lacing his words. "My grandma's coming in this weekend, so my mom said I have to stay home and hang out with her."

Astrid then turns towards me. "And let me guess. You're still working on making your bike into some kind of masterpiece, right?"

I make a gun out of my hand and pretend to shot her with it. "Bingo."

"Oh, tell me, Mister Haddock. Will any of us mere mortals ever be able to lay eyes on the infamous Night Fury, or will we forever have to use our imaginations to pictures its beauty?" Fish chokes on some of his burger, and I shoot him a glare, to which he returns with an apologetic shrug.

"It's getting there," I tell her.

"That's what you said _last time_ I asked you about it."

"But it really is getting there."

She lets out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair to where it's pushed up against the half wall behind her, noisily kicking her skates up on to the table. "I really hope you're right about Haddock's skills when it comes to racing, Fish. It'd be nice to see someone other than Lout win for once."

I smirk in her direction, whipping ketchup from my chin. "Oh, so _you_ can't even beat him?"

She narrows her light blue eyes at me. "He's really good, Hiccup."

"Are you underestimating me, Miss Hofferson?"

"I dunno, am I? I've never seen you race, so I wouldn't know."

"He'll beat him," Fish interjects happily. "Hic really has been working a lot to perfect his bike, Astrid, making it super-fast and stuff. Lout won't stand a chance when Hiccup gets on to that race track." I raise my hand into the air, asking for an air high-five, and Fish delivers, bless his soul.

Astrid rolls her eyes, taking her skates down from the table, and stands up. "Well, I really hope you're right, Fish. It'd be nice to finally see Lout get smacked into his rightful place. Especially by someone like _you."_

"Hey!" I go, trying to look offended. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. See you two weirdos later." She smacks me on the side of the head as she rolls pass, almost making me lose my grip on my burger.


	3. Things I Cannot Recall

**Yeah, only one paragraph for each boy today.**

I felt the topics that are covered in this chapter are pretty heavy and informative, and since Jack's next paragraph is more simple and not as deep, I didn't want to ruin the mood, ya feel me? But these two paragraphs are pretty long anyways, so it's not like I'm slacking or anything. But yeah, next chapter will go back to three paragraphs.

And next update may be some time away. I still have loads of planning for this story to do (got the beginning and the end all planned and some middle stuff, but nothing really official), so that's what I'm going to be working on for awhile instead of actually writing. Don't think this means months before the next update, because that's not what's going to happen. Maybe just expect another update next Wednesday, at the latest.

Thanks for reviews and stuff, guys! I really appreciate it!

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For the rest of the following week after moving into the new house, things seemed to fall into a rather simple and comfortable routine.

I've learned that I like sleeping in; not too late, mind you, but late enough for my parents to have already departed to this place called "work" when I finally make my way downstairs for breakfast. Emma is usually already up and wide awake, finishing up her colorful breakfast of _Lucky Charms_ and orange juice while I slump through the threshold. Either she points to a bowl of cereal or slab of toast sitting next to her at the breakfast table, having gone out of her way to make for me, or she start's going on and on about the day's plans as I wobble around the kitchen, nearly missing the glass as I attempt to pour milk into it.

After finishing up our breakfasts, she helps me with cleaning our dishes, often resulting to at least one water-splashing war - in which I usually win - and then she guides me upstairs to get ready for the day. I ask her why we do this, considering we're not planning on leaving the house, and she tells me that it's not good to wear your pajamas all day, since it'll make you want to be lazy and get nothing done, which I understand. Although, at the same time, being lazy and doing nothing in my _pajamas_ all day doesn't sounds so unappealing to me. Nevertheless though, I do as she says, since she won't let me leave my room if I'm not wearing something other than my flannels.

In the mornings, if it's not too hot out, we normally venture outside into our cozy, green backyard to play games. The competitions we have between each other during these odd children games Emma refers to as "Tag" and "Hide and Seek" don't often last long, seeing as the heat exhausts us rather quickly, but we're always laughing, bright smiles on our sweaty faces as we scurry into the house to get drinks.

She teaches me how to make homemade lemonade, which has to be one of the best things I've ever tasted, despite the fact that I can't remember a lot of food or drink's tastes. After filling our plastic cups to the rim, we store the pitcher in the fridge and make our ways back outside to read in the hammock our father put up for us under this huge oak tree. Emma often makes me read, telling me it'll help me with learning new words, and I don't mind this; I've discovered that I actually enjoy reading a lot more than I expected I would. Sometimes though, I ask her to read, since I enjoy hearing the words come from someone else's mouth every once and awhile.

A couple times, when I'm the one reading the books she brings out to enjoy, Emma falls asleep next to me, her small head resting on my shoulder, brown hair running over me. Occasionally, I'll continue to read on, sometimes out loud, other times in my head, but there are times when I stop and watch her. There's just something about the way her small chest raises and falls, the way her eyelashes quiver in the gentle breeze surrounding us, that makes me feel really… well, really happy. I feel like, if I didn't have this blessed little girl around to escort me through this unfamiliar and strange world, I'd be utterly lost and confused. My parents seem to be too busy adapting to this new life we have in order to have time to help me get back up to speed with things, and asking friends for help is out of the question, seeing as, well, I don't _have_ any friends. Emma just makes every object and idea, no matter how difficult it may seem to grasp, so easy to understand.

After a while, I carry her small body inside to lay her on the couch to sleep, getting her out of the dreadful heat. She never naps long though. It's usually when I'm making an attempt to make lunch for the two of us when she wakes from her light slumber to help me out and join me once we've finished.

Once our bellies are full and the dishes have been scrubbed clean, we pull out different "board games" as Emma as told me to call them, which make sense to me, seeing as they're exactly that: a game on a board. These games vary from day to day, going from guessing games such as _Clue_ and _Battleship,_ to games purely focused on strategy, like checkers and _Sorry!._ We're pretty consistent with playing one board game however, and that one's called Scrabble. We play it a lot because Emma tells me it's all about words, which is something I'm obviously working on mastering. At first, it was frustrating beyond belief, since my vocabulary only extends to basic words, but with a lot of help from my smart little sister, I've really started getting the hang of using these newer, bigger sounding words.

One afternoon though, Emma decides to introduce me to a new game, saying that it, like Scrabble, will help me not only learn new words, but also help me learn to connect words with objects.

"Flashcards!" she cheers, raising a small rectangular box over her head. We're sitting in the middle of the living room, her legs crossed, and me leaning against the couch, wrapping my arms around a pillow. After throwing the box down in front of me, I lean in to get a better look.

"Flash… cards?" I say slowly, giving her a questioning look.

"Yeah! Each one has an object on it, and don't worry, there's nothing _too _hard," she explains to me as she peels open the top of the case and pulls out small sheets of what look like paper. I notice that there are indeed sketches of various items on the surface of each card; the one I see on top has something I think is called a "dog" on it.

"I looked through them last night," Emma continues to tell me, "and I pulled out the really hard ones. Most of them looked pretty easy though. Wanna try 'em out?"

"How do you play exactly?" I ask, not just curiosity in my voice, but also pure excitement. Whenever Emma shows me a new game, I get like this. If there's something I love just as much as my little sister, it's playing games with her.

"You're supposed to tell me what each object is, silly!" she laughs. "Like this." She pulls the card from the bottom of the deck out and flashes it at me. "Tell me what this is."

I look over to see an oddly shaped object drawn upon it. Hm. Let me thing about this. Well… it's long, like a cylinder, only the bottom portion of it appears to be thicker than the top. And, judging by this drawing, it's made of some sort of glass and is transparent and - oh!

"That's a, uh… a bottle… right? A glass one," I answer. When her lips peel back to form a smile, I feel a warmth inside my chest. I've learned that this feeling normally comes around when I've answered a question correctly. I think it's called something like "proud" or, rather, "feeling proud".

"Good job, Jack!" she congratulates me, slipping the card back into the deck in her hands and pulling out another. "Now tell me what_ this_ is."

I study the illustration on the card, letting every detail of it soak in, raking my brain for the appropriate word. This specific object she's showing me right now is very, very, very long and appears to be made of some soft, cloth-like fabric. There's a wild, colorful design on its flat surface, twisting and turning around itself as - wait a second. I know what that is!

"A… scarf?" I ask. I've never physically seen one of these things, seeing how it's summer, and I've been told that there's no need for such an article of clothing during this time, so I hope I'm right and not just making nonsense up.

"Right again!" Emma says, that same smile from before appearing on her face again. "Wow. You're really good at this, Jack!"

We continue this game; her showing me a card and me studying it, soaking each one in just to tell her what it is. I end up getting most of them correct, but a few slip past me, leaving me irritated. Emma never shows any disappointment in me when this happens however, and I'm grateful for this. I'm already beating myself up pretty badly with this game, wanting to get each one right, so the last thing I need is to have her frustrated at me for being wrong.

"And what's this?" she asks, pulling out another card for me to decode. I study it, now lying on my stomach, resting my chin in my hands. Hm. Let me think about this. I've… I've seen this object before, and I think it was outside - a part of nature, definitely - so that really narrows this down… but what is it? It looks… smooth? Yeah, that's the word. At the same time though, it doesn't… wait… does that even _make sense?_ How can something be smooth and bumpy at the same time?

I reach out and take the card from her hand, pulling it right up to my face so I can see every last detail of it. Though there isn't much detail to see, now that I really look at it. It's a pretty basic object, doesn't have much going on. Shoot! I really feel like I should know-

All of the sudden, my eyes black out, leaving me in darkness as a piercing pain stabs into the back of my head. I'm not longer in the center of the living room with Emma, a pillow resting under my arms, but I'm more of in the middle of… nothing. It's just cold, empty darkness surrounding me now, and as it creeps more around me, the pain in the back of my head becomes more agonizing, making me want to let out a scream for help. So I open and my mouth and-

In literally a second, I'm suddenly lying on the ground, only it's not on the shag carpet in the living room, like I had been expecting. This surface is hard and wet, pressed up against the back of my head, which I notice doesn't hurt as much as before. My eyes are open, but only as slits, so what I _can _see is blurred.

There's someone standing in front of me. They're crotched down, their face near mine. I can't make out who is it. Now they're getting up and… wait. Where are you going? I hear a muffled voice say something, but I can't make out the words as the person runs away from me. As I attempt to turn my head, I feel a wave of exhausting come over me, and I have no choice but to close my eyes.

And the pain's instantly back. I reach up and grab the back of my head, trying to help take off the sharp pressure being applied to it by what seems like nothing, and curl into a ball as I let out an agonizing scream.

"J-Jack!?"

My eyes snap open, and Emma's large, light brown eyes stare back into mine. She's wearing a concerned look on her face, but that's all I'm able to observe before the stabbing in the back of my head grows immensely. I want to keep my eyes open, not wanting to fall back into the darkness again, but I can't fight it. I just… can't fight this pain. My eyelids tighten over my eyes as I let out another cry.

"Jack!"

Arms wrap around me as I feel something touch the back of my head, surprisingly easing the pain a bit. I open my eyes to see Emma hovering over me again, my head resting in her lap as she puts something squishy and cold against the back of my head.

"What is-?" I begin, but I don't finish, because the pain is thrashing at me again, trying to get through whatever is placed between it and my scalp. I cringe, my eyes snapping shut as I feel something wet slide down my cheek.

"I-It's okay, Jack," I hear. "You're… you're gonna be… gonna be o-okay." It sounds like Emma's voice, but I can't be sure, since I've never heard her speak in a tone like this before. Fingers are being brushed through my hair as her small voice continues to comfort me, acting as a shield from the torture. Water continues to stream down my cheeks as I grit my teeth, and I can feel my body shaking as the pain begins to fade and Emma leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

We continue to lay like that, my head resting in her lap as she strokes my hair and whispers sweet words to me. She's acting abnormally calm for a child of nine, but remembering the way she stuttered earlier - barely being able to get the words out of her mouth as she tried to help me - reminds me that she was probably just as scared as I was only moments before.

I don't know how much longer it is until the pain eventually fades, but we don't move once it does. Whatever Emma has pressed up against the back of my head is no longer as cold as before and has even produced what feels like water all over her legs and my hair. I keep my eyes closed as I ask her in a quiet voice, "W-What is that?"

"Huh?" she goes, not expecting to hear me talk I assume.

"What is that?" I ask again. "On my head. It's wet."

"I-It's an ice pack," she tells me simply. "Mommy told me that… well, if something hurts, you should put an ice pack on it. And by the way you were grabbing your head, I thought… well, I thought maybe your head was hurting."

"So you went and got an ice pack for me."

Emma looks a little let down when I say this, her shoulders slumping at the words. By her expression, I can tell she's probably thinking she should have done something more, something that would be more efficient in making me stop feeling the pain I was enduring.

I help her feel better, just as she had done for me. "That was very smart of you," I tell her, trying to smile. "It helped. A lot. Thank you."

She beams back down at me, only her eyes look a little hurt. I don't think anything of it though, because she leans down and kisses me on the forehead.

Once she's gone back to stroking my hair, the pain completely gone now, I decide to ask, "What was the object?"

She gives me an odd look.

"On the card," I explain. "What was it?"

Her lips part a little as she stares down at me. I can't tell if she's trying to decide whether or not to tell me, and I'm about to ask her again what it was, when she simply says, "A rock. It was… it was a rock."

A rock.

I close my eyes, relaxing my body.

I should've known that.

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* * *

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Well, _this _isn't working.

I sigh and fall back on to the cold, concrete floor, allowing my tensed shoulders to relax. The silver bike chain hangs lazily from my bike's back wheel's spoke, swaying a little as if to mock me. I'm tempted to snatch it up and hurl it across the cluttered garage, but _man, _I paid a good thirty bucks for that stupid thing and there's no way in hell I'm just going to throw it around like that.

It's Thursday, my first official day off from work, and the next big race is this Saturday. I've been sitting in my garage for the last couple of hours, Toothless accompanying me as I tinker away at my bike, trying everything in my power to make it better and faster than stupid Lout's. I bought this new chain, all sleek and clean - very unlike my older one - in hope of it increasing my speed, therefore my chances of winning. All I've gotten out of it though so far are dirty fingers and a dire need to just get out of this stuffy, overcrowded, and not to mention freezing garage. Maybe wearing a sleeveless shirt while inside a windowless room wasn't the best idea I've had today.

I look over at Toothless, carefully perched on a stack of forgotten cardboard boxes, lapping away at his paws. "There's no way I can race this weekend, bud," I tell him.

He stops licking himself and stares back at me, his large green eyes burning into mine.

"Don't give me that look, _cat_," I threaten him, throwing him a nasty look. "I… ugh. I know I told Astrid and Fish I would, but really. I just…"

Ah, who am I kidding. I've been making excuses to not race against Lout and the other guys since I got my bike back in the third grade, and here I am, fifteen and still a coward. It's not that I don't think my bike's not good enough to race, because I_ know_ it is; and I also know I'm a good enough racer to compete against those blockheads too. It's more of just the fact that those guys have been racing bikes since they were old enough to turn the pedals, where as I've been riding bikes since then as well, but not actually taking it seriously until I was about nine. That huge head start they have - already having fancy bikes all ready for racing - well, that's rather discouraging and extremely intimidating to me.

I get up from the cold ground and quickly loop the chain through the chainring, not bothering to make sure everything's all lined up and in place, because, quite frankly, I really couldn't care less right now. It's only about 7:30, so I have a good half hour to kill before it starts to get dark out, and what better way to kill that time than to go for a much needed and, not to mention, much deserved ride.

"Wanna go, bud?" I ask Toothless, getting up to press the garage door opener.

He gives me this look, growling ever so slightly.

"Don't worry," I tell him rolling my eyes as the garage door opens up and I grab my bike from its stand. "I'll work more on it tomorrow. I may not be able to race this weekend, but I'll get around to it someday."

He continues to give me this look, and I chuckle.

"Fine. I'll go by myself then," I say, mounting the saddle. "Just go claw on the back door or something. Dad'll let you in." And, with that, I kick off the ground and speed out of the garage, gliding down the curvy driveway and into the empty street.

I aimlessly ride around for a while, not really concerned with where I'm going. Berk's a small town, so if I feel like going home, all I have to do is look at my surroundings and get home from there. The fact that I've lived here my entire life just makes doing that even easier.

Normally, I love weaving in and out of streets in my neighborhood, familiar and unfamiliar, seeing all the fellow population doing their everyday evening routines. Some of my favorite things to see are parents coming home from a long day at work to be greeted by their excited children, little kiddy pools filled up with hoses being played in by chubby toddlers, joggers plugged into their iPod, their dog happily jogging beside them. The fact that the wind blowing through my hair feels absolutely incredible just adds to the many reasons why I love biking so much.

There is _one_ street though that I always avoid. It's the street that Fish used to live on, before he got two little sisters and had to move to a bigger place a few streets down. Windwalker Drive is its name and, if I can help it, I try not to have to bike down that street. There are just too many sad memories there.

The street lights begin to flicker on above me as I turn on to Astrid's street. I want to tell myself that me biking towards her place is just a coincidence - that I hadn't been thinking about it - but then I'd just be lying to myself. Every time I go out for a ride, I somehow find myself on her street, staring down the block at her lit house, knowing her room's the window to the far left on the second story, and that she's probably in there, doing whatever it is she does when she's alone.

One of these days, I swear it, I'll have enough guts to pull into her driveway, march up to her door, and ask her if she wants to bike with me. I've seen her bike on several occasions, throwing and catching barspins and kicking into a cliffhanger like a pro, and let me just say that it would be a privilege to be able to bike alongside her.

That's just a stupid fantasy of mine though. I mean, I don't know that many tricks, like she does. I'm more of a racer, focusing on speed and endurance rather than all those super cool and dangerous stunts, so I'd probably feel really lame if I were to bike with her; I'd just be cruising while she'd be being the total badass she is, no doubt.

And besides. She's _Astrid Hofferson,_ not only the toughest and most popular girl in our grade, but also by far the most beautiful - at least in my eyes. And, well, I'm _Hiccup Haddock._ What girl in her right mind would want to bike with _me?_

I decide then to stop torturing myself and head home, since I notice the sun touching the top of the houses around me. The last time I stayed out after dark, my dad pretty much threw a temper tantrum and almost grounded me from being able to ride my precious bike for a week. The fact that I'm not wearing my helmet right now would just give him even more of a reason to be pissed at me, and that's definitely not worth the risk.

It takes a good five minutes to get to my house, and I happen to arrive right as the last street light turns on. As I pull into the driveway, I notice a white van sitting behind my dad's car. I guess Gobber's decided to pay us a visit tonight. Lovely.

After storing my bike in the garage, I enter the house through the conjoined door that leads straight into the laundry room, which then goes into the kitchen. Gobber's bombing voice is the first thing I hear.

"Ye got to cut the poor boy some slack, Stoick," he goes in his thick accent. "So what that he isn't into… well… whatever it is you do, but he's still young. He's still got time to figure out who he is."

I stop in my tracks and hope neither of them heard me open and close the laundry room door. My dad lets out a heavy sigh, signally that, yes, they _are_ talking about me, which is just _great._

"I know, I know," I hear my dad go as I creep closer towards the entrance to the kitchen, so I can hear them better. "He's just… I can't help but feel he's wasting his time on that bike of his. I mean, ever _after_ what happened to his leg a couple years ago, he still loves riding those damned things. It's all he puts his time into nowadays. He's even stopped hanging out with that Fish boy lately too."

"Well, if it makes ye feel better, they work together when they're with me," Gobber assures him.

My dad sighs again. "That's beside the point."

"Well, don't he have anyone else besides the Ingerman lad to be with? He's bound to have other friends, Stoick."

"There's the Hofferson girl, Archie's daughter, I suppose. But those two haven't hung out since they were kids, Gob."

"So, what ye tellin' me is that there isn't anyone else?"

"Besides Toothless?"

"The cat don't count."

"Then no. He doesn't have anyone else. But this isn't about his friends. I just… just want him doing something better with his time, that's all."

"Ye can't control the boy 'n' what he does in his spare time. If he wants to work on that bike of his, he's goin' to work on it, whether ye approve or not. He's a stubborn one, wee Hiccop."

"So I've been told."

"Oi. Wonder where he got _that _from."

I hear my dad chuckle, but it's more of one of those dry type, like he's doing it more to be polite than because he actually thinks what Gobber said was funny. "But really. I just… ah! I wish I could just _understand_ what makes him tick, you know? Understand _why_ he likes to spend his time messing with those bikes rather than… being more productive. I mean, there are so many things he could be doing with his free time! I offered him to be an intern at work with me - you know, get to know the trade and whatnot for when he takes over when he's older - but he turned me down. I let it slide, because he's working for you, of course, but I can't help but feel-"

"Stoick, think 'bout what ye sayin'," Gobber interrupts him. "It's rather obvious_ why_ the boy does what he does."

I don't hear anything, so I assume my dad's giving his friend a questioning look. Of course he doesn't know why I love working on and riding bikes. He never even bothers to ask about it - or about really _anything_ that's going on in my life, for that matter. Hell, for all he knows, I'm still in the robotics club at school and building model airplanes up in my room; in other words, I'm probably still eleven in his mind.

"How old was Hiccop when he started getting into bikes, eigh?" Gobber goes on.

"Dunno. Maybe around… middle school age?" I hear my dad answer. "Gob, you know I don't keep track of those kinds of things."

"Well, maybe ye should!"

"What in Odin's name are you getting at?"

Gobber sighs, letting a brief pause appear in the conversation. I want to stop listening, to pop out from behind the wall and announce myself, just to make them stop talking about me behind my back, like I know they often do. Even though this urge is inside of me, I don't. I _can't._ This is the only way I can find out what my dad thinks of me, as sad as that sounds, and I don't want to ruin it.

"He's hurtin', Stoick," Gobber finally speaks up. "He's usin' all this bike nonsense to forget 'n' ease his mind of… well, of troubling matters."

"What are you talking about?" my dad asks, but I know he already knows exactly what Gobber's referring to. It's the only thing he _could _be referring to.

Gobber says it right as I think it.

"His mother."

There's a moment of silence as my dad, and even me, let's Gobber's words sink in. I wish I could see their faces, see what my dad must be feeling right now, but I don't want to risk being caught eavesdropping.

"Val died seven years ago," my dad reminds him quietly. "He can't-"

"But he is," Gobber says. "Do ye think he could really get over something like that so quickly? I mean, she was his _mother."_

"And she was my _wife."_

"Yeh, but ye also know what he thinks 'bout it all. How he feels... ye know... like he's somewhat responsible for what happened."

My dad doesn't say anything after that, and that's when I can't take it anymore. As much as I want to hear what my dad has to say to that, I don't think I can stand another second of just _standing here_, listening to this. Without a second thought, I open the door leading to the garage quietly, and then shut it rather hard, so I know the two men in the living room will hear it. As I walk into the kitchen, the silence from the living room is even quieter than it was before I walked in, if that's even possible.

Turning into the living room, I shoot a smile their ways. "Hey, Dad. Gob."

My dad looks nervous as Gobber gives me a nod, but he still manages to respond without looking too suspicious. "Ah, Hiccup! I was wondering where you had gone off to. I tried checking up on you a few minutes ago, before Gobber got here, and you were gone."

"Oh, sorry," I go, trying to play it cool for him; the last thing I want is to suddenly snap in front of him, especially with Gobber here. "I was getting a little stressed out, so I went for a ride."

"Ah. Well. Tell me next time, alright, son?"

"Gotcha. Hey, uh... I'm gonna head upstairs, maybe settle in early tonight. Wanna wake up earlier to, uh… do… stuff…"

My dad nods at me as I walk towards the stairs on the other side of the room. "Oh. Alright. Goodnight then."

"Yeah, 'night, Dad. Gobber."

"Sleep tight, Hiccop!" Gobber smiles at me, waving.

I go up the stairs by two as the two men sit in silence behind me, probably waiting for me to close my bedroom door so they can continue talking without me hearing. I have to fight the urge to slam said door behind me as I enter my room, anger suddenly overwhelming me.

He bikes because it gets his mind off of his mother, _blah._

_Whatever._

Gobber may think that's the reason, but that isn't the truth, I know it. I bike because I love it, that's why. I love the rush I get as I pass thirty miles per hour, wind flowing all around me as I pedal my feet like my life depends on it. It has _nothing _to do with my mom, absolutely nothing. It was just a coincidence that I started taking riding more seriously after she died, that's all. They have_ nothing_ in common.

"They act like they know me," I say to Toothless, whom is already lying comfortably on my pillow. "But they don't know _anything._ Notice how they didn't even bother to ask me how my day was. Gah, they don't even care!" I belly flop on to my bed, making Toothless jump up from his place and scurry off the bed. Telling him sorry is on the tip of my tongue, but he's already bolted into my bathroom before I can.

Fine. Useless feline…

I turn on to my back and stare up at my popcorn ceiling. I had felt tired while putting my bike away, but now. Now I'm just pissed off. I mean, I had been upset already about not being able to race this weekend, and not to mention being reminded for the _hundredth time_ how I'll never stand a chance with Astrid, but _this?_ Having to hear my dad not only talking about how utterly confusing I am to him as a person, but also talking about my mom and how she incorporates into this mess and how I feel about her death. Now _that's_ just pushing it.

The thought of my mom makes the anger I'm feeling disappear, but only by a bit. The anger left inside of me however isn't towards my dad for becoming so distant and secretive around me ever since mom died, but rather at myself. I remember what I did that day when I was eight, and I'll never forget it.

I feel the corner of my eyes begin to grow watery, so I quickly whip them with my hand. No. No crying. You can't cry, you wimp. I'm not going to let you think about stuff like that, not right now. Today's already been pretty crappy. Thinking about what happened seven years ago is just going to make it even worse. Just don't think about it...

Something soft rubs up against my leg as I hear a low purring sound. Sitting up, whipping my eyes one last time, I look down at my feet to see Toothless, nuzzling up against me in an attempt to give me some comfort. I guess he forgives me for scaring him earlier.

"Thanks, bud," I go with a soft sniff, stroking his back, which arches with pleasure. "Let's get to bed, alright? I've had about enough of today."


	4. Old Pine

**Gah, one day late for the update. Damn...**

This chapter's slightly longer than the rest, so I hope that isn't a problem. There was just so much to be done this time around! I'm not going to give anything away, buuuuut... you guys are going to like this one, I just know it. (:

Anywhos. Thanks for the reviews and favs and whathaveyou! They're always super, duper appreciated!

Oh, and also, if anyone ever wants to just, I dunno, drop me a message or ask a question, be sure to hit me up on my Tumblr! My URL is sing-till-your-lungs-give-out (long, I know), and that's followed by the usual dot com business. You fellow Tumblr users know what to do.

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* * *

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I'm stationed in an arm chair similar to the one my father carried into our new house's living room only about a week ago; only this chairs fabric doesn't feel as comfortable as the one back home, but I'm not going to complain. By the way my mother is sitting stiffly next to me, flipping through a magazine with some woman I've never seen before on the cover, I can tell she probably doesn't want to have to listen to me complain right now.

On the short drive to this place she referred to as "the dentist office", I had been asking questions a mile per minute. I discovered this wasn't the best idea however because, one, my mother is definitely not a morning person and it _had _been around eight in the morning when she ushered me into the family car; and two, she still has yet to lock eyes with me for more than five seconds. So, as we approached a stop light in town and I asked her what all the names for all the different types of teeth are, she kind of… well, I think I struck a nerve, because she made me promise not to say another word, unless asked, for the rest of our outing. In the end, this is a miracle, because, if I were to have continued to talk, I may have let last Thursday's incident spill.

Emma had been persistent on telling our parents about my "little episode", as we like to call it now, but I fought against this. Yes, I may have blacked out. Yes, I may have seen things I don't understand. And yes, I may have been in excruciating pain. After applying the ice pack and taking a short nap though, I can say I felt completely better, as if it had never even happened. It's not like it's happened again or anything either, so I honestly just didn't see the point in worrying them.

In the end, we agreed that, if something like that were to happen again, we would tell. Until then, they don't need to know.

At exactly eight thirty, a young woman with lots of blonde hair pulled into a bun on top of her head pushes through a door on the other side of the room and says, "Overland?" I assume this is me by the way my mother places the magazine she had been reading down on the table next to her and gets up. I trail after her like a duckling through the "waiting room" - or something like that; I can't quite remember what my mother called it when I asked - and into a long, narrow hallway.

The young woman - her name tag reads Cindy, so I assume this is her name - leads us into the third doorway on the right, looking directly at me as she asks me to take a seat in the chair. This said chair, I'm not going to lie, is rather intimidating: there are white pipe structures perturbing off of it, a small tray filled with instruments that remind me too much of my stay in the hospital. There's even a sink attached to it, and that's just baffling, because why would_ that _need to be there?

"Come on then," I hear my mother say, beckoning me towards the chair, sounding somewhat impatient. "I still need to drop you off at home before getting to work. We need to go." She takes her own seat in a chair similar to the ones out in the waiting room, positioned in the corner of the room.

I look at Cindy, and she returns my look with a smile. I decide to trust her. Besides. I don't think I really have a choice.

After taking a seat in the odd chair, Cindy presses a button on the armrest and the whole structure begins to recline. I must have looked rather alarmed by this, because my mother shoots me a look that has "act normal!" written all over it, so I obey by pretending I'm yawning.

For the next couple of minutes, Cindy does some poking around in my mouth with some of her tools. There is some momentary pain as the sharp end of one of the instruments scraps what I think is called my "gums", but I suck it up. My mother had told me that whatever they may do to me here may hurt a bit, so it's not like I wasn't warned.

Cindy, now done with poking around in my mouth, tells my mother what I guess is information about my teeth, but I'm too busy studying the tooth diagram on the wall next to me to hear any of it. Apparently the very center of the tooth is referred to as the "pulp", which I also have heard is the name for the center of an egg. I wonder if the two have anything in common, though I seriously doubt it, seeing as there doesn't seem to be any other similarities between a tooth and an egg. I try to remind myself to ask Emma about it when I get home.

As I continue to observe the poster, Cindy gets up, removing the plastic gloves from her hands, and leaves the room. I look over at my mother.

"Where is she going?" I ask.

My mother shoots me a look, like she's reminding me that I promised I wouldn't say anything. To my surprise though, she answers. "That was just the nurse. The real dentist is coming in shortly to give you an x-ray and clean your teeth."

I nod my head, confirming I understand. On the inside though, I'm jumping around in my seat. An x-ray! I get to have an x-ray taken! And of my _mouth_! Emma had told me about these things when we were playing _Scrabble_ I think, and I've been curious to what it must be like to get one.

After a couple more minutes of silence, a man whose hair is the color of ash and skin is an exotic light brown steps through the threshold, snapping on some plastic gloves a lot like Cindy's. He sports a white coat, the top button left undone, a pair of thin-framed glasses, and a small name tag with the name Dr. Farry printed neatly on its sleek surface.

"Hello, Jack," he greets with a smile. His teeth probably have to be the whitest and straightest set of teeth I've ever set eyes on, but I suppose that is a given, considering his is a dentist. "My nurse tells me that you have absolutely stunning teeth. Mind if I take a look for myself?"

"Will I be getting an x-ray?" I ask before thinking.

I can see my mother about to speak up, likely to tell the dentist she's "sorry for my behavior", but Dr. Farry beats her by saying, "Of course! Right after I take a quick look, okay?" He shoots me a warm smile, and I have a hard time not returning it before opening my mouth for him.

Dr. Farry ohh's and ahh's over my teeth for a good minute, going on about how I must brush and floss at least three times a day to be able to obtain such pearly whites - which is true, I do, once after every meal. His odd vocabulary and interest in my teeth makes it impeccably hard for me to not burst out laughing, but I fight it.

Getting the x-ray comes and goes a lot faster than I had been expecting it to happen, and this leaves me feeling a tad disappointed, but not enough to ruin the rest of my appointment with Dr. Farry, who turns out to be a rather interesting guy. Despite my mother's earlier wishes, I strike up a conversation with the dentist rather quickly, which is proven an easy task since he appears to already have a natural ability to make small talk. I ignore my mother's narrowed eyes as I tell Dr. Farry about little snippets from my everyday life that he, for whatever reason, finds amusing. I do, however, stay away from topics concerning my memory loss and such related subjects, since I've learned to believe that those aren't the kinds of things you talk to with total strangers.

All the conversation makes the appointment go quickly, and it seems like only a couple minutes has passed since we started as Dr. Farry snaps off his gloves and mask and tells me, "Well, you're all good to go, Jack. It was nice meeting you. As of you, Mrs Overland." My mother gives him a strained smile as I say it was nice meeting him as well, but he doesn't seem to notice it. "Paula should be up front at the check-out table. She'll deal with your payment."

My mother and I get up from our chairs, my mother saying, "Alright. Thank you, Dr. Farry, for your time." She then turns to face me and mouths out words I am barely able to catch.

I turn towards Dr. Farry after a beat. "Yes! Thank you." I glimpse over towards my mother, maybe hoping for a satisfied nod or anything showing her approval for following her directions, but she's already heading out the doorway behind Dr. Farry. I fight to let out a sigh as I follow them.

As my mother converses with this young black-haired woman named Paula about our payment for the visit, I stand a decent distance away from them, near where two small water fountains are planted on the wall. Money and business talk, I've discovered, isn't very appealing to me. I'm about to take a drink from the fountains though when I notice out of the corner of my eyes, a pair of small eyes staring at me from around the corner. As my eyes met with them and I shoot them a smile, the head they belong to darts out of view behind the wall.

"Hello," I say softly, so my mother doesn't hear. "You don't have to be scared. I'm a friend."

The eyes pop back into view, only this time I can also see a button nose and a pair of lips. "You're not my friend," they tell me before disappearing around the corner again.

I'm a little taken aback by this comment as I bend down on to my knees. "Why am I not your friend?"

The head doesn't come into view this time as I hear, "Because I don't even know you!"

"Well… do you _want _to know me?"

All I can hear for a moment are the noises coming from the tools being used by the other dentists in the rooms down the hallway, footsteps and chatter accompany it. I'm about to get back up and wander over towards my mother again when I see a small girl wearing a magenta colored dress and a large green flower in her wavy, ash brown hair, appear from around the corner. She's carrying a stuffed, blue rabbit in her arms as she approaches me, still crouched down on the floor.

Once she's standing in front of me, I say, with a smile, "I'm Jack." It's then that I notice that one of her eyes is a vivid light blue and the other is a surprisingly light pink. I wasn't even aware pink _could_ be someone's eye color.

"I'm Aly," she tells me. "And this is Bunnymund." She lifts her stuffed rabbit for me to see.

"He's cute," I say with a smirk. "Where'd you get him?"

"My sissy's friend gave 'im to me for my…" She stops and pulls up her small hand, counting her fingers slowly, as not to mess up. "My fifth birthday, I think."

"That was sweet of them," I say. "How old are you?"

"Eight."

"My little sister's nine."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe you can come over and play with her someday."

She nods her head, a small grin her face. "Does _she_ have a stuffed bunny toy too?"

I think for a moment, trying to recall all the stuffed animals littering Emma's bedroom floor. I want to tell the little girl that I recall seeing one, but I can't be sure.

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "But she has _a lot_ of other toys too. And she knows magic tricks."

Aly smiles at this, her eyes seeming to glow at the mention of the word magic. "Do_ you_ know magic tricks?"

"Yeah, I do," I tell her, sneakily sticking my hand into my front pocket. To my pleasure, she doesn't seem to notice me doing this. "Emma taught me one just the other day."

"Who's Emma?"

"My sister."

"Oh. Well… can I see it?"

"Sure Just… w-wait a second." I move a little closer to her, squinting my eyes, as if searching for something. "Is that… I think there's something in your ear, Aly?"

Her hands both dart up to her ears, Bunnymund being lifted lazily up in front of me. There's a slight panicked expression crossing her face as I tell her it's okay.

"Don't worry, don't worry," I assure her. "I'll got it." I reach out, gently move her hand away from her ear, and cup my hand around it instead. Once I pull away, I open my hand to reveal a small dime sitting in my palm, glistening under the florescent lights above us.

"How did you_ do_ that?"

I look up and Aly is wearing the biggest grin, showing off two missing side teeth on either side of her mouth. Her heterochromatic eyes are glowing again as she continues to stare at me for an answer. Grabbing her small hand, I drop the dime into her possession.

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

As the little girl drops the coin into her dress's pocket, still smiling at me, I hear someone from down an adjacent hallway call out her name. She hears it too by the way she looks over her shoulder, the smile whipped clean off her face. That's when I realize that I don't even know _where _this little girl came from. All the children that are patients here were outside in the waiting room, yet Aly was already back here, not accompanied by an adult of any kind. I wonder why that is.

"Someone's looking for you?" I ask her.

"Yeeeeah," she goes with a sigh. "My big sissy. I was _supposed_ to stay with her, but she got boring."

I smile at this. "Well, you better go back to her. Don't want her to-"

I'm not able to finish my sentence when I see a girl, maybe around my age, appear in the doorway behind Aly. At seeing her bright pink eyes and the similar hair color to the little girl standing in front of me, I'm instantly able to connect the dots that this must be the "big sissy" Aly was telling me about.

"Aly!" the girl says, letting the name out along with a sigh of relief. "I told you to not wander off like that! Dad doesn't want you getting lost."

"But I'm not _lost_!" Aly protests, tightening her grasp around Bunnymund. "I'm with Jack!"

The girl makes eye contact with me as I straighten up, now able to see all the different shade of pink in her mesmerizing eyes. In that moment, I realize that _this_ girl, with her wavy, ash colored hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail and light chocolate colored skin, is the first girl my age that I've ever seen.

"Who are you?" is all she asks me.

"He's Jack!" Aly speaks up before I can. "He's my friend! He showed me magic. See?" Aly pulls out the dime I had given to her earlier and presents it to her sister with pride. "He pulled it outta my ear!"

To my surprise, the tense, older girl lets out a laugh, allowing her shoulders to relax. "Oh, _did _he now?" she asks, giving me this look that I wasn't particularly ready for. "Are you some sort of magician then, _Jack_?" she asks me, and all I can do is shrug in response; I get the feeling that the mediocre amount of words that I do know would fail me at this point.

Aly is telling her sister about what I did and how_ amazing_ it was when I see it. Sitting on the collarbone of the older girl, held up by a single thread of string, sits a tooth, about the size of a pinky nail. It's stunningly white against her dark skin, and oddly clean, since I've heard that, after pulling out a tooth, they're usually covered in blood and gum. As I stare at the little pendant, a memory registers in my mind; no, not one from before the accident that whipped my memories clean, but from one of my earlier memories with Emma in the hospital.

"Are you the tooth fairy?" I ask.

The older girl's pink eyes land on me again, her smile fading.

"E-excuse me?" she asks.

I point at her necklace charm. "You have a tooth on your necklace," I tell her. "I just thought… I… uh…" Suddenly, I'm at a loss for words. Ugh, why did I even say anything? I _know_ I'm not good with words, so why did I even bother to speak up? I should've just said bye to Aly and wandered back over to my mother. Now this girl probably thinks I'm weird for, one, staring at her necklace, and two, asking her if she's the tooth fairy.

"No, she's not the tooth fairy!" Aly finally says, breaking the silence. "That'd be cool though. Then I could have all the money I want when I lose my teeth!"

The girl looks down at her little sister, obviously still trying to compute what I had said to her. "Yeah. No. I, uh… I'm not the, uh… the tooth fairy."

"Oh," is all I'm able to say. "I, um… yeah. I… hi. I'm Jack."

Wow. Just… wow.

The girl smiles though, which eases the inner pain I'm conflicted on myself. "Hi, Jack," she says back. "Thanks for, uh, giving my sis a dime. She loves money. And magic."

"Same here," I say. "I mean, the magic part. Not as much of fan for the, uh… for the money… part..."

I'm about to ask her what her name is, since it seems like the kind of question one would ask at about this point in a conversation - if that's even what we're having, which I can't really tell - but I'm not able to when I hear someone calling my name behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see my mother, giving me this look that shows that she's upset; her arms are crossed as her purse hangs lazily from over her shoulder. She cocks her head towards the door, signaling that we need to leave.

I look back at the girls. "I got to go. It was, uh… it was nice meeting you two."

"Bye, Jack!" Aly waves to me as I back towards the exit of the office. "Thanks for the dime!"

As I wave to her, the older girl looks awkwardly down at the ground. I don't even bother to say goodbye to her; she probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo.

"Have fun?" my mother asks me with an edgy tone as we leave the office, clearly not happy with how I spent my last couple of minutes. She had strictly told me not to talk to anyone during this outing - had even made me promise - and I had broken it.

Hey though. I got a new friend - yeah, so what if she's only eight, it still counts - and I believe that's worth risking everything for.

I smile brightly at her. "Yes. Yes, I did."

.

* * *

.

I hadn't thought I was going to take a bike ride today; I usually don't after having to mow lawns for four hours, but I'm just so filled up with anger right now that I needed to get out of the house.

Today revealed to be sort of a crappy day, not going to lie. Fish was late picking me up due to getting held up at home by his parents, who nagged at him for forgetting to let Meatlug, their pet bulldog, out the night before, resulting in her pooping all over their living room's new carpet. Because of our lateness, Gobber wasn't all too happy to have a ten minute late start, along with all the other guys, who continually shoot us glares while we were being dropped off at our house. While at our first house, I discovered that Lout is one of our clients the hard way: as he was leaving to go out, he threw what appeared to be a baseball under my lawn mower, therefore _absolutely ruining it beyond repair_. So not only did I have to borrow Mister Jorgenson's personal lawn mower, which was super embarrassing in itself, but I also owe Gobber a good two hundred bucks for something I didn't even break. _Then,_ while at The Ring for lunch with Fish afterwards, I accidentally bumped straight into Astrid after leaving the restroom, causing the huge grease monster she was carrying on her tray to splat on to her uniform's front. She was so pissed off afterwards, she won't even make eye contact with me when I ordered my lunch.

And now I have to deal with _this._ Right when I thought that being under the roof of my very own house meant that the cruel tricks of the world couldn't reach me, my dad had to walk in and make everything worse by bringing up my future and what I plan on doing with my life.

"You spend all your free time working on and riding that bike," he had told me. "Don't you want to do something more… _productive_ with your time, son?"

We have had this conversation a million times before, but today's argument wasn't like the rest, not really. Normally I'm able to just throw my arms into the air once I've at enough and storm off to lock myself in the room for the rest of the evening, but not this time. _This_ time, my dad actually _followed me upstairs_ and _into my room_, still going on and on about how I'm "the future for the company" and how I need to "get my head screwed on straight if I want to be successful with taking his place one day", which caused Toothless, the poor guy, to scamper into my bathroom out of fear.

"But what if I don't _want_ to take your place in the company?" I threw at him. "Have you ever once stopped and thought about what _I_ want to do with my life, not what _you_ want me to do?"

I got him with that. I guess he hadn't really thought of what I want to do, which, to me, was just the most upsetting thing to find out.

Not once in my entire life have I ever shown any interest in the family business, not once. While growing up, all I ever did with my time was draw and write stories and play with my limited number of friends outside, usually playing pretend games. Now, as a teenager, I'm _still _not showing any interest in what he wants me to do, so why can't the guy just take a hint?

I notice I've picked up speed as I reach the rural portion of town, the nicely paved roads bleeding into rough and rocky dirt ones. I pull on my brakes a little to slow down. Don't want to take another spill on this road, like this one time in seventh grade. The gashes caused by little rocks piercing into my skin and the later scars are definitely not worth it.

Why can't my dad just be okay with what I want to do? Why can't he just accept that fact that I don't want to be heir to his company? I mean, yeah, I know I'm kind of expected to take over once he leaves, considering I_ am_ his only son, but that's not my fault; I didn't ask to be an only child, now did I?

I lean forward the rest my head on my bike's handlebars. The road ahead goes on straight for some time, so no need to worry about unexpected turns.

And then my dad mentioned something about someone coming over for dinner sometime this week? Yeah, that was weird. We never have anyone over, and if we do, it's Gobber, and even then, my dad doesn't tell me about it. When Gobber shows up at our place, it's understood that, well, he's there. No big deal; he's like an extended part of the family, really.

Who in the world though could be coming over for dinner with us? My dad doesn't really have any friends, besides Gobber, of course. And even if he did, he wouldn't go out of his way to warn me about it.

Ugh, this is all too frustrating. Everything about this day just sucks really, really bad.

I decide to pull over, realizing that I was drifting off the road before roughly pulling myself back on course. Getting off my bike, I look around for a place to just rest for a while before having to get headed back home for what I expect to be a very uncomfortable dinner. I notice an old pine tree a couple of yards away off the side of the road, it's branches starting a good ten feet above the ground and sprawling out in all directions. There's not a single soul in sight, so I start heading towards it.

After placing my bike gently against the trunk of the pine and collapsing alongside it, I allow myself to close my eyes and just listening to my breathing. The sun is on the opposite side of the sky, so no need to worry about squinting or sweating up a puddle, and the slight breeze moving around me feels nice and relaxing - just what I needed. I lean my head back further, my eyes still closed as my body moves down the trunk into a somewhat reclined position. Now that I think about it, I should just stay here. Yeah, my dad'll be pissed as all hell, but this is just so nice, sitting under this tree by myself, away from all my worries and-

I hear a rustle in the leaves overhead, and my eyes snap open to come face to face with a thin, white haired boy sitting in the branches above me.

He raises his hand from his side. "Hi."

"Uh… hey?" I say back slowly. "Whatcha, uh… doin' up there?"

"Hiding from my mom," the boy tells me, his eyes, which I notice are a piercing blue, still looking down at me.

"O-oh?"

"Well, I'm not really _hiding,"_ he goes on, correcting himself. "She doesn't know I'm gone, which means she can't really be looking for me, so I don't think that would really mean I'm hiding. Or at least I don't think so…" He stops and seems to really be thinking this over as I stand back up in order to see him better.

"Why are you hiding from her exactly?" I decide to ask.

"She's upset with me."

"For doing what?"

"Honestly… I don't really know. I think I broke some of her rules. I don't know. She can be really strict."

"Sounds like it."

"What about you?" he asks me, this little grin appearing on his face, showing me a set of teeth almost as white as his hair. "What are_ you_ doing way out here by yourself?"

I don't answer him right away, because why would I? Hell, I don't even _know_ who this kid is. Why would I tell him my business of being here? Then again… talking with someone that doesn't know my situation may be beneficial; I may be able to get _a lot_ off my chest this way; and by looking at his face, which is just giving off the vibe of genuinely wanting to know why I'm here, I feel the urge to actually explain myself.

"I guess I'm kind of hiding from my dad," I tell him. "Except, like you, I'm not really _hiding."_

"Ahhh," the boy goes, nodding his head. "Did you break some of his rules too?"

"I… guess?"

"What did you do?"

I don't know what it is, but after hearing him ask me this, I suddenly start to regret striking up a conversation with this weird, white haired stranger - who's sitting in a_ tree_, let me point out. Despite how I felt the urge to talk to him only seconds ago, I don't feel much like explaining my entire situation to him anymore, because who would want to sit through something like that anyways? Pfft, I most definitely wouldn't, that's for sure.

"I, uh…. who… who are you… exactly?"

The boy doesn't seem to notice the sudden change of topic, much to my relief. "Oh!" he goes in response instead, an even larger grin than before making its way into his pale face. "I'm Jack!"

"Uh… okay. Hi, Jack."

"Hi!"

We continue to look at each other, Jack's blue eyes staring into mine, and I begin to feel quite uncomfortable, to say the least. What _is_ it with this kid? You don't just stare at people like that. Then again, I_ am_ kind of staring at him too, sooo…

"Listen, uh… I should probably get going," I tell him, breaking the awkward - at least from my side - eye contact and reaching for my bike lying on the tree beside me. "My dad's probably expecting me home soon for dinner and I don't want to-"

"Actually!" Jack interrupts, cutting me off mid-sentence. I look up, and instead of wearing that grin from before, he's features appear to give off more of a nervous expression. "I was wondering if you could help me down…"

I stop reaching for my bike and look back up at him, a look of disbelief on my face, no doubt. "You want me to _help you down?_ From this _tree?"_

He nods.

"Don't you… you don't know how to get down?"

Now looking a little embarrassed, he shakes his head.

"How did you even get up there to begin with then, man?"

He just shrugs down at me. "I don't know. I just climbed, I guess."

"You _guess?"_

"Yeah. I guess."

"And you didn't once stop to think about how you'd be getting down from there?"

He opens his mouth, but stops before the words come out, appearing to be rethinking his answer. "Nnnnnnnnno," he finally says, slowly. "I didn't."

I can't help but let out a dry chuckle. "Well, you've really got yourself into quite a predicament here, now haven't you?_"_

"A what?"

"Huh?"

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"A… whatever you said. A predica-whata-what."

"A _predicament?"_

"Yeah."

At this point, I really can't help but stare up at him. Does he seriously not know what a predicament is? I mean, I can get some people having never heard of the word before, but those people probably consist of little kids and people just learning English with small vocabularies. This Jack guy here appears to be older than me, so I wonder what his excuse is.

"It's, like… a problem. You've got yourself into some real trouble here, y'know?" I explain. By his expression and his "ooooooooh!", I'm able to assume he gets what I've told him.

"But can you help me?" he asks, and by the tone in his voice, I can tell he really means it; this kid seriously doesn't know how to get down from this tree.

I shrug. "I guess you can just jump or something."

"Y-you think?" He sounds uneasy by this plan of action.

I put my hands up. "I don't know what else to tell ya, man. I'd jump if I were you though. It really isn't that far of a drop."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Go for it, I say."

"O-okay." He scoots a little off the edge of the thick branch he's perched on and looks down at the ground, where I'm standing. By the way his eyes grow wide, I can tell he's not really feeling my plan.

"Don't look down," I say up to him. "It'll make it less scary."

Jack nods and looks away from the ground, closing his eyes shortly afterwards. Before I can ask him if he's going to do it or not, since he's just kind of sitting there with his eyes closed, he's falling, and the next thing I know, he's on the ground, knees and hands pressed up against the grass.

"Oh gods! Are you okay?" I ask hurriedly, running up to his side as he removes his hands from the ground, resting on his knees. The little strands of green stand out astonishingly well against his white pigment; I have to fight the urge to let out a snicker, which makes me feel slightly bad.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures me with a smile, rubbing some of the grass embedded on his hands off and back on to the ground. I help him up, finding out that he stands a good head taller than me.

"You sure?" I pester onward, noticing the small cuts on his knees. "Looks like you got some-"

"Wooooah! Is that _yours?"_ he asks me, ripping his arm from my grasp and approaching the bike.

"Uh… yeah."

"This is so _cool_! Where'd you get it?"

"A… bike… store…?"

"Oh." He crouches down in front of the bike and begins to inspect it, poking the tire and many spokes gingerly with his white finger. I can't help but think that maybe this is the first time this kid's ever really seen a bike, which I know sounds absolutely ridiculous, but man, he didn't know what a _predicament _was.

His white hair whips around so that he's facing me again. "I think I have one of these things too," he tells me, a large smile on his face. It's then that I notice that, dang, this kid's got some really blue eyes. Like, I thought they were blue before when he was up in that tree, but _now._

"Oh yeah?" I go, ripping my gaze from his eyes.

"Yeah." He jumps up, making me move back some. This kid's so bouncing and fast; I feel like he's going to fall over and on top of me or something if he makes one misstep. "Want to go see it? My house is just down there. It's not really that far away. We can walk together!"

His question catches me completely off guard. Is he… he's really asking me, a completely and utter _stranger_, to come to his house so he can show me his bike? Is that kid for _real?_

I guess he notices the discomfort on my face, because he licks his lips and says, "It really isn't that far. And, well… I don't know much about bikes. And you seem to, so..."

I don't know _what _it is, but the good person inside of me sees pass the whole him being a stranger that has white hair, impossibly blue eyes, and skin the color of snow. I mean, yeah, the kid's a little weird with his extreme enthusiasm leaking from his smile and his social awkwardness, but he is pretty much begging me - in a very subtle way - to join him at his house to check out his bike, and why should I complain or say no to that? He wants to talk _bikes,_ which, last time I checked, is my second _language_. If anything, I should be thrilled to have someone that wants to get my opinion on something like this.

I grab my bike's handlebars and shoot him a smile. "Lead the way."

.

* * *

.

This tiny, green eyed boy with more freckles on his face than I can count tells me his name is Hiccup, and I almost completely lose it. Emma's told me that there are some people out there with very odd names, some even unpronounceable, but Hiccup? _Hiccup?_ I have to cover my mouth with my hand after he tells me this bit of information, fearing that he'd hear my laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh if you must," I hear him tell me with a smirk on his face, his bike by his side as we make our way down the dirt road towards my house. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"That isn't your_ real_ name, is it?" I ask, removing my hand from my mouth.

"Nah," he says. "You think my parents would actually_ name_ me that?"

"I don't know. They could, if they wanted to."

"Well, they didn't, thank the gods."

I laugh as I see the house coming into view. "What _did_ they name you?"

"Hey, isn't that your place?" he asks, changing the subject rather abruptly. I don't point it out though, because if he doesn't want to talk about his name - like he didn't want to talk about why he was way out here in the middle of nowhere earlier when I asked - then that's fine by me. Everyone's entitled to their own business, right?

"Yep, that's the place!" I tell him, throwing my arms up. "We moved in just a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"I mowed your lawn the day you guys moved in," he explains to me. "My friend thought you having white hair was the weirdest thing. Why_ is_ it white anyways? Do you dye it?"

I shrug, ignoring the word "dye", which I don't know the meaning of. "I came with it."

"Sooooo, what? Are you, like, albino or something?"

"Al-what?"

"It's… nevermind."

We continue up the rugged driveway, his bike bouncing slightly in his hands as we go. I feel the compelling urge to be asking him something, carrying our conversation forward, but nothing seems to come to mind. I decide to stay quiet, since I've noticed that when the words don't naturally come to me, I usually end up saying something wrong.

As we approach the garage door, I tell him we're going to have to lift it, since my father has yet to install the "remote control" or something that makes it open up with a click of a button. Hiccup grabs the left side, almost losing his grip the first time around, as I grab the right. On the count of three, we both heave the door open, causing it to slide on to the ceiling of the garage.

"Alright," I hear him go, dusting off his hands on his shirt and looking at the watch on his wrist. "Let's see this bike of yours. I need to be heading home soon anyways, so…"

Giving him a quick nod, I make my way over towards the bike rack in the corner of the garage, my eyes landing and locked on a white and blue one that caught my attention when my father was carrying it in a couple of weeks ago. I hear Hiccup approach me from behind as I lift it from its supports and lower it to the concrete floor. I'm about to tell him that, yep, this is it, but I'm cut off by him letting out a sharp gasp.

"Is that_… no,"_ he says under his breath, his eyes large and round like the snow globe in my room as his hand shoots up to cover his mouth. "That_ can't_ be..." I give him a confused look, and he his eyes grow even wider at this. "Are you… are you telling me you're_ not_ aware of the kind of bike you're holding on to right now?"

I look down at the bike; it's a basic paper white with electric blue outlining its limbs, a black TREK written down the middle bar. I want to say I see something special about it, considering Hiccup here definitely does, but I'd be lying if I did. To me, it just looks like any other bike.

"That," Hiccup goes, walking up to me on the other side of the bike and touching the handlebar, "is a Trek Madone 7.7." Crouching down, he seems to be inspecting the bike further, his eyes gawking at everything between the cushioned seat to the sturdy handlebars, running his fingers down the spokes and on to the tires. "Wow. What a beauty."

"So… this is a special bike?" I ask, crouching down beside him, seeing him through the spokes in the tire.

He shoots me another shocked look, like he honestly cannot believe I don't know the worth of this bike. "Is this… you're _kidding_ me. Do you even_ know _much a bike like this _costs?"_

I shake my head.

"Like… _eight thousand dollars, _man."

"Is that a lot?"

As he gives me that shocked look again, I can't help but try to hide a smile. I figured this guy liked bikes, but I wasn't aware he likes them_ this_ much.

"Let me put this into perspective for you," he says, getting up and walking over towards his bike leaning against the wall. "My bike here costs me a good, eh… four fifty? Somewhere around there. That bike _you're_ holding is worth, like… something like… eighteen, nineteen times _more_ than what I paid for mine."

I stare blankly at him, not fully understanding what all these confusing numbers really have to do with his and my bike.

"Your bike's cost is the equivalent to, like… a nice, small, new _car!"_

"Oh! Oh, wow."

"_Exactly!_ Gods, your parents must be_ loaded_ or something."

"I don't know. We have nice stuff, but I don't think we're, like…_ rich_ or anything."

"Well, whatever you guys are, _this is a nice bike."_

As I get back up from crouching and look down at the bike, I can't help but wonder: why? This bike looks almost the same as his; his is just somewhat smaller, and the handlebars and seat are both shaped differently, and the colors are both polar opposites, mine white, his black. Other than those few details though, I don't see much of a difference.

"Where in the world did you even _get_ something like that, man?"

"It's my father's," I tell him. "But he said I can have it now. I think he used to race it."

"No shit," Hiccup walks back up the bike and touches the handlebars again, still seeming to be taking it all in. "I hope he was some sort of professional biker or something, because this is definitely a professional's bike. Would've been a total waste of money if he didn't race it, y'know."

I respond with a shrug, since I honestly don't know. I've never bothered to ask my father why we have a decent handful of nice bikes locked up in the garage.

Hiccup looks down at his watch then and grimaces. "I should probably head back home," he tells me, patting my bike's handlebar's one last time before going back over to his bike. "Gettin' kinda late, and I need to be home before it gets dark."

"Oh. O-okay, yeah," I go, leaning my bike against the wall. "If you ever want to, you know… come back over, feel free to! You could tell me some more about my 'incredible bike' or whatever."

I don't know why, but he gives me this uneasy look as he attempts to return my smile. "Yeah… I'll, uh… I'll keep that mind. Thanks…"

"Okay. I'll see you around then!"

He returns my farewell with a simple wave as he turns, picks up his bike, and kicks off the ground, rolling down my driveway. As he goes though, I notice something about the boy that I didn't catch before; his left leg, instead of being a tanned peach color and made of flesh, like the rest of him, is made of what appears to be metal. I'm just standing there, staring after him, jaw dropped, trying to figure out how I should feel about this. I've never heard of someone having a metal leg before… maybe Emma knows a thing or two about it.

Looking back up, letting the fascination with Hiccup's metal leg, I watch his small silhouette disappear down the street and out of sight.

Well. That didn't go _too_ badly, right?


	5. Nothing to Worry About

**It's 11:51 PM where I am right now, so I'm updating on time. HA.**

Don't have much to say about this chapter. I just hope people won't get _too_ weird about what happens with Stoick at the ending (nope, not spoiling it here, go read it if you wanna know). I've never seen something like what I'm planning on doing be done before, so I feel like I'm swimming in uncharted waters now and I'm a little scared. But trust me! It's for a good reason; has looooots to do with character development later on down the road with Hiccup, trust me.

But thanks for all the reviews and love and stuff! All your lovely comments are keeping me writing this story! (:

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"Hiccup Haddock, you are such a liar."

I let out a heavy sigh, putting down my cheese burger that I haven't even had the pleasure of taking a bite out of yet as I hear the sound of skates roll up behind me. Once I turn around in my seat, Fish across from me looking up momentarily from his meal, I come face to face with a rather unpleased looking Astrid, one hand on her hip and the other holding an empty tray.

"May I ask what exactly I'm being accused for?" I say in a sarcastic response, shooting her a smile meant only to piss her off more. And it works; as soon as my good vibes get to her, she narrows her light blue eyes.

"You're being accused for lying, you wimp. You said you'd race against Lout this last Saturday, but when I got there, you weren't there." She flips the tray upright and placing it on our table before taking a seat next to Fish. "Can't say I wasn't surprised to see you decided to not show, but still. Why weren't you there?"

"I thought you said you weren't racing," I remind her. "Something about your precious Deadly Nadder being in the shop getting new wheels, right?"

"I didn't race. I was there to watch _you_ clobber Lout. And don't change the subject."

"I never made any promises," I tell her, putting my hands up as to surrender. The last thing I want to do right now is to have an argument with Astrid over a promise I never even made to begin with. I mean, Fish's and my mowing job today was already pretty brutal in itself: this woman was very persistent about allowing her dog to roam free as I mowed her backyard, only making it a thousand times more difficult to get the job done without seriously mangling the stupid mutt.

"He's right, Astrid," Fish backs me up, bless him. "He said he'd _try_ to go, but if he coul-"

Astrid shoots him a hard glare, and he stops talking instantly.

"Hey, that's not fair," I snap at her.

Astrid turns her attention towards me again. "What's not fair?"

"You're using your infamous death glare on my co-worker as he tries to defend me. That's an unfair advantage."

I can tell Astrid's trying to not let a smile cross her face; the corners of her lips are fighting to move upward, I can see them, but her cheeks are pushing against it, determined to keep her scowl stationary. In the end, however, a small smirk makes its way through, signaling that I'm, hopefully, off the hook - at least for a little while. Fish notices her smile too as he lets out a small sigh, a satisfied grin on as he goes back to his burger.

"Yeah, well…" Astrid goes on, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table. "You need to get some new battle maneuvers. You're gettin' rusty, Haddock."

I let out a laugh. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"But in all seriousness - which I _know_ is hard for you to be, but please bear with me."

_"Hey."_

She just waves me off, dismissing my disapproval. "Why weren't you there Saturday?"

"My chain broke the day after we talked about it."

"Wow. 'Bout time," I hear Fish cut in through bites.

"Yeah. Surprised it took as long as it did for it finally have enough. It was pushing almost three thousand miles."

"Well, did you get a new one?" Astrid asks, looking briefly over at the ordering station. I notice an older girl - probably college age - behind the counter with a crazy amount of red hair on her head shoot her a weird look, but Astrid chooses to just ignore it.

"Yeah," I tell her. "Took more time than I expected, but I got the stupid thing on."

"And have you tested it out yet?"

"Geez. What's with all these questions?" I tease her, resting my chin in my hand, giving her a playful smirk. "You're beginning to sound like you actually _want_ to help me or something."

She returns my remark with an eye roll. "In your dreams. Now, did you test it out?"

"Yeah. I was… able to find a reason to leave the house."

I notice Fish out of the corner of my eye give me this concerned look that makes me look back at Astrid without a second thought. After knowing me since we were both five, he's one of the few people in town that knows that me finding a reason to leave the house means that there was a good reason for me to leave the house in the first place. He doesn't say anything though, most likely not wanting to bring this up with Astrid in our presence, so he just goes back to munching on his burger.

Astrid opens her mouth to reply, but she's abruptly cut off by the girl behind the counter calling out, "Hofferson! We're not payin' ya to talk to our customers! Get back to work!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Astrid shouts back, waving the girl off as she gets up from her seat, snatching up her tray in the process. "I swear, you two are going to get me fired again."

I can tell Fish is about to talk back to this comment - tell her _she _was the one that started a conversation with _us,_ not the other way around - but before he can, she's already said "see ya" and is gliding over towards the kitchens, her braid trailing behind her as she goes to get her next meal to deliver.

"She really does love putting the blame on us, doesn't she?" I say with a laugh, watching her go. I look over at Fish for his feedback, but all I get from him is that concerned look from before.

"Hiccup-"

Breaking away from his stare, I pick up a fry and soak it in ketchup. "I don't want to talk about it."

"C'mon. What happened?" Fish goes on anyways, ignoring my plea. "Was it your dad again? What'd he do this time?"

"I said I don't want to _talk_ about it, Fish."

"Yeah, well… you _need_ to talk about it, okay, Hiccup?" He lets out a sigh as I hear him crumble up his leftover burger wrapper. "And, you know… I'm here if you want to."

I take a bite off the fry and chew it in my mouth slowly, allowing myself to let out a soft, "Thanks," but that's as much as Fish is going to get out of me on this topic. He _knows_ I'm not the biggest fan when it comes to talking about my dad and his dream of me taking over the family business. Sure, I'll talk about any other aspect of the old man, since, not going to lie, my dad's a pretty decent guy. He may act reserved and overly serious about everything a large majority of the time, but I've seen the guy lighten up on several occasions; it's actually really easy to make him laugh I've discovered, especially if you've somehow managed to get his mind completely off of work. He's a good man, my dad, and I'll admit that I think he's done a more than decent job at raising me these last couple of years without having my mom around, but sometimes… sometimes he's just so narrow-minded and stubborn, especially when he believes he's right about something. And those two traits, when it comes to getting me to follow in his footsteps, are a huge pain the in ass.

"Let's get out of here," I hear Fish say, interrupting my train of thought. "It's getting kinda hot out. Maybe we can find somewhere cool to hang for the rest of the day?"

"Yeah. Good idea," I say. Crumpling up my burger wrapper, I toss it towards the trash can a couple of feet away. It misses, of course, falling on to the ground right next to the metal container, and Fish lets out a series of snickers as I fetch it.

We walk out of the eating area and into the parking lot, listing places we could go with blessed air conditioning. We've just stepped off the curb of the parking lot when I can't help but notice an oddly familiar looking car rolling in. I feel like I've seen the vehicle somewhere before - and recently too - but I can't seem to put my finger on it. As Fish says something about maybe going and getting our bikes so we can hang out at the indoor skate park around here, I watch as an older looking man with dark sand colored hair steps out of the driver's side, not aware of me observing him. He doesn't look familiar, but then again, if I don't recognize him right away, that can only mean that he must be new to town, which can only mean-

Fish nudges me as he notices the young boy with snow white hair getting out of the passenger's side of the same car. "Hey," he goes under his breath, leaning towards me, as if to make sure the boy won't hear him. "There's that white haired kid. The guy that just moved into-"

Fish isn't able to finish his sentence because Jack notices me before he can, making it plainly obvious that he recognizes me. As our eyes meet, a smile appears on his face, his blue eyes standing out like a sore thumb against his pale complexion. He raises a hand, waving it a bit, and calls out my name.

"Hey! Hiccup!"

Fish grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop as I wave lazily back to Jack. "Wait… you… you_ know_ him?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "We talked once, like, a couple of days ago. I helped him outta a tree."

"You _what?" _

"Let's not talk about it, okay?"

Next thing I know, Jack's jogging up to the both of us, looking cautiously both ways before crossing the parking lot. The older man - whom I assume is probably his dad - gives him a quizzical look as he approaches the entrance to The Ring, but Jack just waves him off with his hand and a smile. The man doesn't seem to protest by the way he nods and heads to the ordering station in the shade.

"Hey," Jack greets me again, now standing in front of us. I register that this kid's about the size of Fish, if not an inch shorter, which sucks, since now that means they're _both_ towering over me.

"Hey, Jack," I greet him back. "Uh… I don't believe you two have met?"

Jack shakes his head as Fish gives me a curious look.

"Fish, this is Jack. He just moved into Mildew's old place outta town," I explain. "And Jack. This is Fish. We're, uh… we're friends."

"Wow," Jack goes with a laugh. "Does_ everyone_ in this town have weird names?"

I'm almost completely blown away by this remark, since I honestly can say I did_ not_ see it coming. Fish though, thank the gods, takes it all in stride.

"It's a nickname," he tells Jack with a shrug. "Childhood nicknames die hard, you know?"

Jack nods, but by the look on his face, I can tell he doesn't know.

"So, uh… what are you up to then?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing. I notice his dad at the ordering stand, pointing up at the menu as he probably places his order with the young girl behind the counter. "I've never seen you, like, _in _town before."

"My dad took me out shopping!" Jack tells us, sounding rather excited about something so mundane. "I mean, it was for, uh… hardware I think it's called? Hammers and tools and stuff like that. Is that kind of stuff called hardware?"

Fish nods his head, telling Jack he's got the right word, but I can't help but wonder how this guy could possibly not know the meaning to the word "hardware". Last time we had talked, it had been about what a predicament was, which was understandable, but now he's asking what _hardware _is? Geez. I wonder what this kid's problem with words is?

"But now we're out getting lunch," Jack continues to explain, running his hand through his hair. "He said he heard something about this place having really good hamburgers from someone at his work. Thought we'd try it out."

"And that is so true," Fish confirms. "I highly suggest the number five, if your dad hasn't already ordered for you. It has juuuuust the right amount of everything on it, so it's really great."

"He orders it every time we come here," I add in.

"Well, then I'll definitely try it out," Jack says with a smile. "Have you guys already eaten?"

"Oh yeah, we just ate," Fish tells him. "But now we're thinking of heading over to the indoor skate park around here. Wanna join?"

I can't help but give Fish a side glance, trying to get through to him that inviting this guy along was most definitely not something I was encouraging him to do. All he does in return though is give me a confused look, like he doesn't quite understand why I wouldn't want to invite Jack along. Now that I think about it, I don't blame him for thinking this; only moments ago, I was introducing Jack to him like the two of us were on good terms, which I'm not saying we aren't. It's more of just that I don't know him well enough to consider him even really an acquaintance. And, not going to lie, I still get this uncomfortable vibe from him. Be it from his awkward tendencies or some other weird reason, but whatever it is, I can't seem to shake it.

"Really? You want… you want _me_ to come along with you guys?" Jack asks us, appearing not to have noticed Fish's and my little internal exchange. By the toothy grin that occupies his white face, I can tell that Jack really_ is_ just as excited and honored to be asked to join us as he sounds.

Fish just shrugs, obviously not noticing Jack's enthusiasm, like moi. "Sure. I mean, why not? You're new here and we've both lived here our entire lives." He nudges me in the side, maybe to tell me to lighten up a bit. "Who's more qualified to show you around than us?"

Jack, honest to the gods, looks like he's about to erupt with happiness any second now. "Okay! Okay! Yeah! Let me go ask my father if it's okay and… and yeah! Stay right here!" Before Fish can even get a simple nod out in confirmation, Jack is sprinting across the parking lot and towards the ordering station, where his dad is now waiting for his order.

"He's quite the excitable one, isn't he?" Fish asks as he chuckles at the white haired boy.

I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You don't even know."

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* * *

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After confirming with my father that I could go out with these two boys for the remainder of the afternoon, the bigger, blond boy that goes by Fish tells us we should split up so that him and Hiccup can go gather their bikes. Because this place these two keep referring to as a "skate park" is closer to Fish's house than Hiccup's, they suggest I tag along with Fish, so I won't have to walk as far as a distance, seeing as I don't have a bike to ride.

Fish is a pretty respectable conversationalist I discover; there isn't a moment where neither of us aren't talking. He does a larger majority of the talking however, but I really don't mind. What he talks about mostly is the history of the town Berk and little facts that I assume strike him as interesting. He even tells me that his father runs a business not far away from the skate park we're heading to.

"He's a travel agent," he explains as we turn on to a street that I assume is his.

"What's that?" I ask.

Before answering, I notice him give me this inquisitive look, like he doesn't know whether to believe the fact that I don't know what this "travel agent" occupation truly is. I want to tell him about my situation, that new words escape me easily, so he won't think… well, anything negative towards me, but he answers before I can speak up.

"It's someone who, like… helps other people decide where they're going on their travels. Like, how they're going to get there, what they'll do there. Stuff like that."

I nod my head, happy that he was willing enough to explain and not question me on not knowing what I guess is a pretty simple term. "And what about Hiccup?" I proceed to ask. "What does his father do?"

We come to a stop in front of a cozy, two-story home, a wooden porch with matching swing surrounding the front and curling around the side. There are no cars in the driveway, and all the lights inside the sheltered looking home seem to be off, so I assume no one is home at the moment.

"He runs his own business. Started it right out of college waaay back when," Fish explains as we make out way towards the adjoined garage. "He's a car rental dealer. Rents cars out to people who are vacationing around here."

"People vacation here?" I ask. Don't get me wrong, Berk is a pleasant place - charming sunsets every evening and even an acceptable excuse for a beach - but I just can't see someone wanting to vacation in a place like this.

"Sometimes," Fish tells me with a laugh, most likely understanding why I ask such a question. As we approach the garage door, he presses four keys on a little pad positioned next to closed door, and after a beep, the door begins to rise. "They're mostly just people passing through that need to car for, like, a day or something. He has pretty good business though, surprisingly, so I guess that's all that matters, right?"

We step into the crowded garage, boxes on top of boxes in every corner, almost reaching the popcorn ceiling, a weird smell of oil and some foreign scent crawling into my nostrils. As I take this place and all that's in it in, Fish wanders over towards the back where I see a bike rack stationed, holding four bikes of every size.

"Which one's yours?"

He places his hand on the medium sized gray bike with light brown and purple stripes on it. "This beauty right here," he tells me, taking it down from its place on the rack and on to the ground. "I call her the Gronckle. She's a mountain bike, so she does better on rough terrain, but she can manage street biking pretty well too."

As he puts on some weird gloves with no fingers, I walk up and touch the handlebars of this bike he calls the Gronckle. They're tougher than the bike I have back home, but that may be because they've been put to more use than mine has.

"Have you seen Hiccup's bike yet?" Fish asks me, now flexing his gloved fingers.

I simply nod my head, vaguely remembering the smaller black bike Hiccup had been wheeling around on a couple of days prior to now.

"Yeah. He calls it the _Night Fury,"_ Fish goes on, motioning me to follow him with his bike out of the garage and into the empty driveway. "It's a racing bike, so it goes a_ lot_ faster than, say, my huge lug of metal here. But that's okay. I'm not much into racing."

"I take it heis though," I say as Fish presses another button on the key pad and the garage door begins to close.

"Oh yeah. He _loooooves_ to race. Did more of it back when we were in middle school, but then he got in this nasty accident one day and he stopped biking altogether."

Wait… _what?_

Hiccup was in an _accident?_

"But he bought the Night Fury sometime during freshman year from a scrap yard, and ever since then, he's just been fixing it up to race again." Fish doesn't seem to notice me pondering over his earlier words as he continues on. "Now all he can manage to think about it-"

"You said he got in an accident," I interrupt, not being able to hold back any longer; the curiosity of what happened to the smaller boy is eating at me for some reason, and I don't know why.

Fish suddenly looks like he regrets his chose of words. "Um… yeah," he says slowly, not making eye contact with me anymore. "Back in seventh grade. I… I don't know if, uh… if I should-"

To my dismay, Fish isn't able to finish his explanation, because Hiccup rolls up on his bike at that very moment, asking us if we're ready to get going. I can tell that Fish is relieved to not have to explain what he meant earlier to me, and I try, to my best efforts, to not let that bug me.

After a good ten minutes of them biking slow enough for me to keep up - and several occasions were Fish asked if I was sure I didn't need a ride - we finally arrive at the skate park. It ends up to be just a monotone brick building with worn out letters I can't even read on the side, but the two boys assure me that the inside is a lot more satisfying than the outside, so I follow them through the glass door, out of the torturous summer heat and into relieving air conditioning.

If I were into biking as much as Fish and Hiccup are, I can honestly say that I would've loved this place at first glance. The main room, that I assume makes up the entirety of the building, is spacious and empty, minus the obstacles that have been placed out for the skaters and bikers - little humps and metal bars aimlessly placed ever so often around the floor, a large wooden structure that resembles half of an open pipe near the back, and an open bowl imprinted right in the center. Several other teens - mostly boys I notice, but a few girls as well - are already occupying the space, darting in and out of the bowl and dodging one another as the glide across the concrete flooring.

"No bike for Jack?" I hear Hiccup ask Fish beside me as I take this new scene in. I take it that Fish shakes his head to his friend, because I feel Hiccup poke me in the arm and say, "You okay with just watching?"

"Oh. Yeah. No problem," I answer, only half hearing what he asked me. A small laugh escapes his lips before he darts off into the chaos, Fish in his wake.

Watching the two maneuver their ways around everyone else is something like watching Emma make one of her card towers; even though I feel like I shouldn't be impressed, I truly am. It may have something to do with me not being able to remember anything, therefore making pretty much _everything_ impressive in my eyes, but I don't question it. I enjoy being easily impressed.

Hiccup though. _He_ definitely knows what he's doing on that bike of his, that's for sure. Watching him drop in and pop out of the bowl, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he does so in concentration, makes me believe that biking is as easy to him as breathing is to someone like me. I can't help but notice his prosthetic leg though - that's what Emma told me it's called, after I questioned her about it - and wonder how; how is he able to bike with a piece of metal replacing his real leg? Can't he not feel anything with it, therefore making it more difficult to do, well… anything really?

I find my way over towards a rake supporting a good dozen of bikes instead of dwelling on all these questions I know I probably can't get answers to right now, their owners all resting on a bench against the wall a few paces away, taking sips from water bottles and chatting it up with one another. One of the boys - a larger one with wiry brown hair - is the loudest of the bunch though, spitting out words so loud I'm sure I could've heard them from outside the venue.

I look away from the boys and see Hiccup pedaling his way slowly up to me, his body risen off of his bike's seat. "You sure you don't wanna try this out?" he asks, whipping his auburn bangs out of his green eyes. "There're some bikes and skates and stuff in the back for people that don't bring anything. I'm sure I can convince Dagur to let you borrow one. I mean, for a price, but y'know."

As much as I seriously want to follow up with his offer, I shake my head. "No, that's fine," I assure him. "It's fun watching."

He gives me a skeptical look, like he's seeing right through my smile. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I assure him. "Don't worry about it."

With nothing but a shrug, he turns on his bike, making his way back over to where Fish is attempting to do some weird move on one of the pipe structures. As Hiccup bikes passed him, he raises a hand and Fish slaps it with his own, a large smile on his wide face as he pulls his bike into the air and on top of the pipe, only to clumsily stumble off of it, nearly falling off his bike. Hiccup, who's already made a reasonable amount of distance from his friend, sees this and bursts out laughing, yelling something to Fish that I can't hear.

Now that I think about it, I probably should've taken Hiccup up on his offer. Despite the fact that I've never actually ridden a bike before, I'm sure I wouldn't embarrass myself too badly, right?

I back up more against the wall, and in the process, manage to nearly trip over my own feet. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but it suddenly _becomes _a problem when I accidently make contact with the bikes in the bike rack, causing the first to fall sideways and on to the one sitting beside it. It's horrible to watch, each bike knocking the next one over, like a game of Dominos. As they all crash, voices become hushed and heads begin to turn in my direction.

I don't think I've ever wanted to become invisible more than right now.

"Hey!" I hear someone shout from my left. My head turns in the direction of the sound, and there's that large boy with the wiry hair, marching over towards the rack, his eyes wide with horror. He bends down and surveys the last bike in the row, now lying on the concrete floor. After a moment of looking it over, his head snaps up at me and he lets out a loud, "What the _hell_, man! You ruined my paint job!" The boy gets up, practically throwing down his bike as he makes his way towards me. I back up, nearly tripping over my own darned feet again as his arms are coming up from his sides to grab me. I'm in shock, unaware of what I should do before this guy lays his hands on me, but then his hands recoil at the sound of a bike skidding to a stop and someone yelling out, "NO, LOUT!"

Both our heads, along with everyone else watching, turn in the direction of the voice, and there's Hiccup, jumping off of his bike and running towards me. By the way Lout meets him half way, his anger showing in every one of his heavy steps, I can tell that these two boys know each other already.

"He _ruined_ my bike!" the bigger boy yells down at Hiccup.

"Oh, he didn't _ruin _it," Hiccup says back nonchalantly, rolling his eyes. "He probably just chipped the paint. No big deal."

Fish pedals up then, stopping besides Hiccup's abandoned bike, looking worriedly at his friend. I begin to wonder if I should feel worried for him too.

"No. Big. _Deal?" _the boy yells back, his hands forming into fists. At seeing this, a tugging feeling begins to form in my stomach. "Do you have _any idea_ how much that paint job _cost me?"_

"Way more than it should've, no doubt."

The boy's hand darts up and jabs Hiccup in the chest, causing him to stumble back, but luckily he catches himself before falling backwards. "_He's_ here with _you,_ isn't he?"

"Well… y-yeah. What of it?"

"He's gonna have to pay, you know."

"Okay, fine," Hiccup sighs, whacking the boy's meaty finger away from his chest. "How much does he owe you? It couldn't have been _too-"_

_"Not_ with money," the boy says, looking over towards me and narrowing his small eyes.

There's a brief silence, until I hear Hiccup firmly state, "No way."

I suppose this guy isn't used to be being told no, because he looks shocked as his head snaps away from me and back down at Hiccup. _"What_ did you just say?"

"I-I… I said no," Hiccup repeats himself, not sounding nearly as confident as before. "He can't fight you, Lout. I-It wouldn't be fair."

"Who ever said anything about it being _fair?"_

I have the sudden impulse to step in and defend myself, since I can see that Hiccup is losing his firm footing with this boy he calls Lout. As I step towards the two of them though, Hiccup shoots me a side glance, warning me not to make another move. Something in his eyes, the pure urgency of them, makes me stop what I had been planning on doing.

"Let him race you," I hear Hiccup say, looking back up at Lout. "That way it'll be fair."

Lout seems to actually be considering this, turning his head slowly towards me and looking me up and down. This awfully devilish grin appears on his face, and I feel my stomach turn inside of me again. I want to speak up - tell Hiccup to stop what he's doing - but I can't get the words to come out.

"Fine," Lout spits down at Hiccup. "Next Saturday. Usually place. Or do you need to be _reminded _where we usually race, seeing as you haven't been around to race lately." Two blonde haired twins - one a boy and the other a girl - still sitting on the bench against the wall let out loud snickers as Lout's smirk grows.

"No, but thanks anyway," Hiccup spits back, sarcastically. "I remember where it is."

"Good." As Lout turns to go back to his beat up bike, he bumps shoulders rather aggressively with Hiccup, almost causing the smaller boy to lose his balance completely. I dart over towards him, Fish doing the same, as everyone listening in on the earlier argument disburses and goes back to skating.

"You alright?" Fish asks his friend, patting him on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about me," Hiccup replies, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm used to him pushing me around. We just need to worry about you now." He looks up at me, letting out a slight sigh. "At least I know you have an awesome racing bike, so the chances of you getting slaughtered by him are in single digits."

"Uh… about that…" I say slowly, not being able to make eye contact with either of them all of the sudden. "I, uh… I didn't tell you guys something that I, uh… probably… should've mentioned…"

I notice the two exchange looks out of the corner of my eye.

"Aaaand what's that?"

I heave out a large sigh, closing my eyes as the words escape my mouth.

"I don't know how to ride a bike."

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* * *

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The entire time I bike Jack back to his house, him trailing close behind, it feels like I have something caught in my throat. Luckily for me, Fish does me a favor and talks with Jack for the first half of the trip, filling him in on who Lout is and what he's going to need to do now that he has to race against him. Once we reach Fish's house though and he leaves our little pack, it's just Jack and me alone for the long ride to his house.

I hadn't known that challenging Lout to race Jack was going to led to _this._ I mean, the kid's got a bike - and freaking _amazing_ racing bike at that - so naturally I assumed he already knew how to ride it. I guess I assumed wrong? I thought what would end up happening is that I would help Jack a little by giving him some tips - easy stuff about speed and stuff like that. But then I discover the kid _can't even ride a bike._ Dang. Now I'm just lost on what to do.

"Are you mad at me?"

I almost put on the brakes he catches me so off guard. Turning my head back and to an angle, I'm able to see him walking behind me; he has his hands stuffed into his shorts pockets, his head held in a downcast so I can just barely see the blue of his yes.

I let out a sigh. "Kinda… but not really, no."

He looks back down at the ground after making brief eye contact with me, making his face turn from a dark white to an even darker gray. "Sorry…"

Pressing on my brakes, I'm glide back to where I'm not too far ahead, making it easier to talk with him. "No, no. You of all people shouldn't be sorry."

"But I knocked over the bikes. I'm the one at-"

"And that was an _accident,"_ I tell him before he can finish. "And, y'know… people make mistakes sometimes. I mean, if you don't, then you're probably not human, right?"

"I… I guess…"

"Lout's just a jerk who thinks he has something to prove," I breathe, edge in my tone. "And… and besides. If anyone's to blame here, it's me. I got you into this mess by challenging him." I sigh again, looking away from Jack's sulking figure and down at the ground slowly rolling beneath my feet. "Gods. We should've just walked away when we had the chance. Now we're in _this_ mess."

"It's not your fault either," I hear Jack tell me in a quiet voice. Looking away from the ground and back up at him, I see that his blue eyes are locked on mine. "You… you didn't know I couldn't bike."

Something about him saying those words - the words that have led us into this dilemma in the first place - makes me feel a little uneasy. I can tell he feels the same way as well by the way he drops his gaze and looks back down at the ground, kicking a rock with the bottom of his shoe. I want to say something, words of encouragement and how he's going to do fine, but I know to attempt this would be useless. We both know that there's physically no way that he could possibly win a race against Lout.

Jack's house comes into view and I'm about to say my farewell, when Jack turns towards me in and jerky manner, looking a little bewildered about something I apparently haven't thought of yet.

"What is-" I begin, dropping my feet to the ground, but he answers me first.

"What if… what if _you_ taught me how to bike?"

Uhh…

"What if I _what_?"

"Think about it," he goes on, his apparent excitement growing with each of his words. "Fish tells me you're a really good racer, so who better to learn from than you?"

"Jack, I… I dunno…"

"And Fish told me that the track you guys race on is made of dirt, so this road right here in front of my house could work perfectly too!"

"Jack…"

"You could teach me! This could actually _work,_ Hiccup!"

He stops walking right before approaching his mailbox, this big, goofy grin on his face as he probably searches mine for some reaction. All the emotion that I can manage to feel however is that same uneasy feeling from before.

I mean… I _guess _I could help him learn to race. It means we'd have to start from scratch though, which also means I'd have to put a lot of time into teaching him, because racing someone with as much skill and determination as Lout isn't going to come naturally, I can already tell. Putting that much time into this may be a little tricky too, considering work and just personal time for myself. Now that I really think about it though, I probably owe this to Jack. Yeah, the kid's a little odd and socially awkward, and I still get this weird nervous feeling whenever I'm around him, like I don't know if I should expect something to happen, but I was the one that got him into this mess anyways, despite what he says about it not being my fault, so I should at least try and do something to make this easier on him.

Meeting his eyes again, I lean forward and rest my arms on my handlebars. "Well… if we're going to do this… when should we meet up?"

The look on his face is priceless as he literally begins to glow and does a quick, lame attempt at a fist pump in the air, managing to get a smile out of me. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank yooooou!" he cheers. "And, uh, what about tomorrow? Does tomorrow sound good?"

"I… guess tomorrow would work fine," I say. "But I'd have to do it sometime in the afternoon."

"Why?"

"Work."

"Ah. Right."

After some discussion, we decide on two tomorrow afternoon. That way, I'll have some time after getting let out from work to eat, shower, and get some rest before heading to his place. We don't worry about what bike he'll be using either, because that must should be obvious.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" he goes as I place my feet on my pedals, ready to head out.

"Sounds 'bout right." I turn my bike back towards home. "Get some rest, okay?"

He shoots me one of his smiles, showing off all of his pearly white teeth as he starts heading towards his house. "Alright. You too, Hic."

Raising an eyebrow as he walks off, I can honestly say I'm a little surprised at him slyly putting that nickname in there after just knowing me for… geez, how long have known each other anyways?

As I bike home, I give myself the pleasure of being able to enjoy the scenery rather than over thinking everything that's happened today. I pedal quickly pass Astrid's house, not even bothering to see if her bedroom light is on or not. On arriving home though, my leisured ride is cut to an end when I see an unfamiliar car sitting in the driveway. As I walk pass it and into the driveway to put my bike away, I remember my dad mentioning that someone was coming over for dinner sometime this week earlier last week. Wish I had known it was tonight; I wouldn't have stayed out so late. He's probably going to give some quiet lecture about it later as our guest is off in the bathroom or something.

"Daaaaad?" I go, opening the door leading from the garage and into the kitchen. There's no reply, but I hear Toothless scamper down the stairs and towards me, meowing like crazy. "I know, I know," I go, scooping him into my arms and allowing him to rub his mane against my face. "Sorry I'm home so late, bud. Won't happen again, I promise."

"Hiccup?" I hear come from the backdoor. I turn, and there's my dad, poking his head through the slightly opened sliding glass door. "Ah. Thought that was you."

"Hey, Dad," I greet him, setting Toothless down. "Sorry I'm late. I had to walk someone home and it took some time. Whose car is that out in the driveway anyway?"

"Oh. A, uh… a colleague of mine," he explains walking into the kitchen, keeping the door open behind him. "Do you, um… want any dinner? I picked up some brisket from the store before coming home. Thought you might want some."

"Sure, yeah, but I, uh…"

I'm not able to finish what I was trying to say because a woman, maybe around my height with thick, light brown hair, appears in the opened door. Her eyes are locked on my dad as she opens her mouth to speak, but when her eyes land on me, her eyes widen along with her smile.

"Oh, you must be Hiccup!" she says, announcing her presence to my dad, who jumps a little at her sudden voice. "Your old man here's told me so much about you."

"Oh, uh… hi…" I say back, not quite sure how to respond to that.

"Hiccup, this is, um… this is Bertha. Bertha Bog," my dad fills me in as the woman squeezes her way into the house. "We just hired her a couple weeks ago. Thought I'd, uh… have her over for dinner. A welcome to the neighborhood greeting of some sort."

"Which was _so kind_ of your father, if you don't mind me saying," Bertha laughs, patting my dad on the shoulder playfully.

Okay… that's kind of weird.

"Well… if you want to join us, we're eating outside then," my dad tells me as Bertha sneaks her way back outside. "We're mainly talking business, so it may be good for you to listen in. May learn a thing or two."

I see exactly what he's trying to do, and there's no way in hell I'm playing into it. "Nah, that's okay," I tell him instead, grabbing a plate from the cupboard. "I had a long day. Thinking of just eating, then going to bed. Thanks though."

My dad's mouth opens slightly and I can tell he wants to say something that'll make me have to join him outside, but he doesn't say it. Instead, all that manages to come out is, "Ah. Okay. Well… 'night then, son."

"Yeah. 'Night, Dad."

He wanders back outside, sliding the door shut and even closing it a little harder than I think is necessary. I try to not let this action bother me, like me skipping dinner to avoid talking work with him is obviously bothering him. Piling a few slabs of brisket on my plate, I can still hear the two adults exchanging words outside, and even see them for the most part out of the window.

Toothless rubs up against my calf, purring and looking up at me with those big green eyes of his that always win when it comes to him begging for food.

"Ah, fine," I give in, cutting off a slab of brisket and allowing it to fall to the kitchen floor. Without a second hesitation, Toothless is all over it, looking up at me afterwards, asking for me to drop another slab. I bend down, stroking the back of his ears and head, and he meows like he's telling me this will have to do for the lack of seconds.

I stand up, about ready to head upstairs and call it a day, when I make the grave mistake of glancing over at the window peering outside. Right before my eyes, I see this Bertha woman - this woman I've never seen before _in my life_ until today - lean over and kiss my dad right on the kisser.

What in _Thor's name…_

I don't even bother to wait to see how my dad will react. Without a second thought and having almost tripped on the way up the stairs on my prosthetic leg, I head upstairs and lock myself in my room for the rest of the night.


	6. Coastin'

**And here's the moment you've all been waiting for!**

Jack's section this chapter is waaaaaaaaaaaaay longer than poor Hiccup's, but that's because I thought the whole learning-to-ride-a-bike experience would be interesting to see through Jack's eyes. And yes, only one paragraph for each boy this time. This chapter ended up being a _lot_ longer than I expected by the time I got to the end, so yeah. Ah well.

Not gonna lie, but I'm really beginning to enjoy writing the dialogue for this story. Now that the boys are growing more and more comfortable with each other, it's becoming really quite fun to think of all the clever comebacks and snarky comments they'd give each other!

Anyways. Hope you all enjoy! And don't be afraid to write me a review or hit me up on my Tumblr (sing-till-your-lungs-give-out is my URL)! I love hearing back from you guys!

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* * *

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That next morning, it's Emma that wakes me up instead of my internal alarm clock. She seems rather enthusiastic, despite the early hour and the fact that I'm groaning about wanting to go back to bed as she drags me downstairs. I quickly understand why she's so excited though as we enter the kitchen. Apparently, while looking around for some breakfast to eat, she stumbled upon our mother's colossal cook book and took it upon herself to flip through its numerous pages. While doing this, she found a recipe she had been desperate to find.

"Chocolate chip pancakes!" she exclaims, grabbing the book from off the counter and shoving it towards me as I stumble through the kitchen threshold. "We're going to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, okay, Jack?"

I can't think of any reason to say no, so I sent her a sleepy smile and say, "Sure thing, kiddo."

Making the pancakes takes some time we discover, seeing as neither of us have ever had to legitimately cook anything before in our lives. Besides all the confusion over the cooking terms I'm not aware of and the horrible mess we leave behind, our chocolate chip pancakes are a thousand times better than our usual Cheerios and toast.

After eating and cleaning up our cooking chaos, we get ready for the day and wander outside to soak up some sun. We get out some chalk our father had bought for us over the weekend and play some hopscotch, a game that Emma's very fond of that's also grown on me. Once the heat proves to be unbearable though, we go lay in the hammock under our oak tree.

"Maybe we can bring a board game out," Emma suggests, curled up in my arms as we sway gently back and forth. "We can set up under the umbrella on the patio so we don't get _too_ hot and sweaty and gross."

I ask her for the time, and she looks down at her little purple watch, telling me it's nearly noon now and asking me why I ask.

"I promised someone I would hang out with them today," I explain. "He's supposed to be coming over here at around two."

"Oh." I can tell by her tone that she's a little bummed to hear this, and I try to assure her that we can play all the board games she wants tomorrow, but she stops me. "It's okay, Jack," she tells me with her sweet smile. "I'm actually going over to a friend's house to play anyways, so it's fine."

"Oh yeah?" I say, surprised to hear this. After two weeks and a half of us living in Berk, not once as Emma ever told me she has a _friend_. I wonder where she met them…

Emma gives me this look, like my surprised tone is greatly unappreciated. I have a hard time not letting out a smile as she says, "Yeah, I _am_ going over to a friend's house, thank you for asking, _dummy_ _pants_. Her name's Hannah and she lives down the street from us."

"What time do you need to be there?"

"One o'clock."

"How are you going to get there?"

"I was just going to walk. It's really not that far away from here."

"Are you sure? I could walk-"

"Jack, it's fine!" She wraps her small arms around me, encasing me in a hug, her soft hair rubbing up against the bottom of my chin. "I can take care of myself. You go have fun with your friend."

I smile and kiss her lightly on the top of her head. "If you say so."

After a brief moment of enjoying the sounds of the peaceful summer surrounding us, Emma asks me about my new friend, and I tell her as much as I can about him. As I explain the quirky boy I only met a couple of days ago to her, I realize that I honestly don't know as much as I thought about him - at least not personality wise - which bugs me for some odd reason.

He's a little short, I tell her, but I don't know how old he is, so he may be of average height for his age. He enjoys bike riding and he's rather good at it - mostly when it comes to speed though. He strikes me as shy, but I feel if you get to know him, he opens up. He's covered in freckles from head to toe, he has gaped front teeth, really, really green eyes, and his name is Hiccup.

"_Hiccup_?" Emma asks, a series of giggles coating her words. "His name is _Hiccup_?"

I nod.

"Well, _that's_ a funny name."

"It's not his real name," I explain to her. "It's just a nickname. Kind of like his friend, who goes by Fish. Just a childhood nickname that stuck."

"Hiccup has a friend named _Fish_?"

I nod again.

"Wow," Emma goes under her breath. "The teenagers here have weird names."

"Tell me about it."

I feel her roll on to her stomach beside me, now nestling her chin into the crock of my armpit. "Do you think I could meet him?" she asks, her brown eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Maybe someday," I tell her. "Probably not today though."

She pouts at me, her eyebrows furrowed. "Why can't I meet him today?"

"Because _you_ have a friend's house to go to, that's why," I remind her, reaching out and pinching the tip of her nose, causing her eyes to squint up and a smile to form on her face.

"When can I meet him then?" she continues through giggles. "You gotta remember that I'm leaving for camp at the beginning of July, so I'm gonna be gone soon!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. When are you coming back?"

"I'll be gone aaaaaall month."

"Well, if you're not able to meet him before you leave, you can just meet him once you get back. I promise."

"But _Jaaaaack_-"

"Hey, hey," I laugh, pulling my fingertips through her hair to shush her. "You'll be able to meet him one day, okay, kiddo? He lives here too, so it's not like he's _going_ anywhere."

She just stares at me, her eyes squinted as she searches my face to make sure I'm not lying to her. I'm about to reassure her that I said I had _promised_ she'd be able to meet him one day, when she lets out a sigh and simple says, "You better not be playing any tricks on me, Jack."

It's hard to not smile at her comment. "Would I _ever_ trick you?"

She replies with sticking her tongue out at me.

At that point, I hear Emma's stomach begin to growl and suggest we go inside to get something to eat. Without a second thought, the little girl jumps up from my arms and begins skipping towards the back door, singing something about having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, which I know is her favorite.

Luckily for us, making our sandwiches proves to be less of a challenge than our pancakes earlier that morning, but that's mainly because I have more practice with slicing bread and spreading peanut butter and jelly. Emma pours both of us glasses of lemonade as I finish up, and we enjoy our lunch together on the back porch in the shade, playing a few games of Twenty Questions, in which Emma beats me brutally at.

As one approaches, we head back inside and I clean the dishes with Emma's help with drying. She tells me about her new friend Hannah as we work, telling me she ran into her while playing out in the front lawn the day my mother took me to the dentist. Apparently the two girls bonded instantly and are now on the friendship level of being able to have play dates.

"Is that what you and Hiccup are having today?" Emma asks me as I walk her out to our mailbox, the beginning point of her journey to Hannah's house. "Are you guys having a play date?"

"I… don't think that term works for kids my age," I explain, running my hand through my hair.

"Well, what term _would_ work for 'kids your age' then?"

I shrug, unable to think of a proper term. "Em, you know I'm not good with words."

She shoots me a smile. "I know."

After kissing her on the top of her head and telling her to be safe, she marches off down the dirt street towards the small ranch house that I can barely see on the horizon - this house, Emma told me, being Hannah's. Once I'm barely able to tell it's Emma I'm watching, I head back towards the garage. I know Hiccup isn't due here for another hour or so, but I may as well get ready for when he arrives.

I take my bike down from its rack, being extra careful to not drop or scratch it. Walking out of the garage and into to the driveway, I head towards this huge tree on the edge of our lot; its branches fan out in all directions, its leaves large and thick, great for blocking out sunlight. As I wheel my bike over to it, propping it up against its thick trunk and taking a seat at its base, I remember that I should've probably put on some sunscreen, since my naturally white complexion has recently turned into more of a light pink due to all the sunlight I've been getting lately. My mother lectured me about this the other night after coming home from my skate park adventure, saying something about how "people like me" shouldn't be getting as much sun as I've been getting, since we burn easily. I didn't quite understand what she meant by "people like me", but I didn't question her - I just nodded and said I would remember to put this sunscreen substance on next time I went out.

I'm about to get up and run inside to apply the weird, white cream Emma introduced to me last night when I see a faint figure in the distance, moving faster than someone traveling on foot. As I get up from the ground, I can see auburn hair whirling around their head, and I smile.

"You're early," I tell Hiccup as he pulls to a stop a few feet in front of me.

"Yeeeeah. Woke up from my nap earlier than I expected," he explains. He uses his prosthetic leg to kick a weird metal rod out from the side of his bike with his foot. After dismounting, the bike doesn't tip over; I assume that this rod may have something to do with this.

"So, uh…" I hear Hiccup go. He claps his hands together, nervousness and maybe a little discomfort imbedded in his eyes. "We should probably get started." After I nod and head back to the tree to retrieve my bike, I hear him add on, "Do you have any gear?"

Turning back towards him, my bike in hand, I give him a confused look.

"Gear," he goes on, looking a little worried. "Like… a helmet and… knee and elbow pads."

I think for a moment, and when the image of all those kids at the skate park wearing those weird hard-hat looking things and Fish putting on those gloves while in his garage snap into my mind, I snap my fingers at him - something my dad does a lot when he remembers things. "

Yeah, yeah, yeah! I think we have something like that," I tell him. "Let me just go get them."

After running and gathering up all the gear that looks like it would be needed to ride a bike, I venture back out in the front lawn, where Hiccup is waiting for me.

"Is this everything I'll need?" I ask, showing him the gear in my arms.

He shuffles through the items and nods his head slowly, flipping his hair out of his eyes. "Yep. You got a helmet, knee and elbow pads, and gloves." He grabs a pair of huge, turquoise and white themed goggles that just so happened to be included the pile, and stares at them with a confused look on his face.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Why exactly did you bring out _scuba_ goggles?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He's giving me this weird look, and I get this constricting feeling in my chest as he places them back in my arms.

"I thought… I don't… maybe I would need them?"

He throws me this smirk and chuckles a bit, shaking his head. "Yeah. Maybe if we were taking a ride _underwater_. But, last I checked, we're not, so, uh… I think we can do without 'em."

"Okay." I toss the goggles towards the tree as fast as I can, like they're poison. Geez. Of _course_ you don't need goggles for bike riding. How could I be so _stupid_?

After that fiasco, Hiccup instructs me on putting on my gear, helping me out a bit when one of the gloves doesn't appear to want to slip on to my hand as easily as we'd like. Now that I'm wearing this clunky helmet on my head, having to push the brim up so I can see, I'll admit, I feel kind of like a… oh, what's the word Emma always uses? Oh yeah. A dork.

"Why do I have to wear this thing?" I ask with a tone, pushing the brim up out of my face again. "_You're_ not wearing one."

"Yeah, but that's because, unlike you, I already know how to ride a bike," he explains to me. "It's for your own safety."

I push the brim up again as it begins to slide down into my face. "I don't like it."

"Well, my deepest apologizes, _your majesty._ Now, if you're done complaining, let's get started."

Hiccup begins my first bike lesson by explaining each part of the bike to me, starting with the handlebars and the absolute importance of the brakes, to the chain wrapped around the pedals and moving to the back tire. He says something about knowing my bike will help me ride it better, and as peculiar as that sounds to me, I don't doubt him. Out of the two of us, he definitely knows more about bikes than I do, so who am I to question his words.

We then move on to me simply walking while on the bike, as to get a sense of balance. It feels odd at first, attempting to walk while carrying this lug of metal under me, the pedals every once and awhile pressing up against my calves annoyingly. After a few rounds of going back and forth though, with Hiccup constantly having to remind me to keep my handlebars straight, I grow more and more comfortable.

"Okay, so now we're going to practice gliding," he tells me once I get back to him from my last round. "Luckily this isn't a sloped area, so you'll be able to stop easily. Just gently push off the ground with your feet and… glide, I guess."

I nod, lifting one my feet off the gravel. As soon as my other foot leaves the ground however, the entire bike shifts to one side, threatening to flatten me to the ground. My body reacts naturally, quickly planting my feet back at my sides. After gaining back my balance, I shoot Hiccup an embarrassed look, my eyes probably completely hidden under the bothersome brim of my helmet.

He opens his mouth as to say something, but then goes to biting on his lower lip as he studies me. "This, uh…" he finally says, "may take some time…"

Instead of letting me glide on my own, he tells me he's going to help keep my balance until I can do it on my own, which I'm thankful for. Placing one of his hands on my handlebar, right alongside my own hand, and the other on the back of my seat, he tells me to lift my feet off the ground. I do as I'm told, and the next thing I know, I'm gliding, not falling all over myself or anything.

"Put your feet on the pedals, Jack!" Hiccup reminds me hurriedly as he jogs me down the dirt road, and I quickly obey. We only glide for a good forty yards, but after I place my feet back on the security of the ground and Hiccup lets go, I definitely feel more confident.

"If you're going to bike slowly, which is what's gonna happen I assume, you'll need to learn to balance yourself using your handlebars," Hiccup explains to me. He walks up and places his hands next to mine on the handlebars again. "You can do this by gently swaying them back and forth. Like this." He begins to maneuver the handlebar to the left and then to the right, causing the front tire to move along with it.

"So… that'll keep me up?" I ask as he lets go.

"Well, it's not _guaranteed_ or anything," he tells me. "You'll still need to, uh… use your body weight to balance yourself. But it'll help."

I nod my head and look down at my feet, sitting on the ground underneath the pedals. Without thinking of what I'm doing, I prop my feet back up on the pieces of metal and lean my weight forward, moving the handlebars like Hiccup just taught me, beginning to pedal gently.

"Jack!" Hiccup yells out, sounding surprised to see my going off by myself, but as soon he sees that I'm moving on my own, none of his assistance required, I hear him let out a laugh and a, "There ya go! That's it!" I concentrate on the handlebar in front of me, thinking about which way the bike's about to lean and quickly turning them in the opposite direction. Things are going fine and I'm beginning to feel proud of myself for getting the hang of this so quickly, until I hear Hiccup behind me yell, "JACK!" again, and I'm suddenly lying on the ground.

Blinking a couple of times, I find that I'm staring up at the leaves waving down at me in the tree I guess I just ran into. Hiccup's face appears in my vision after a couple confusing seconds, and when I smile up at him, he lets out a sigh.

"How'd I do?" I ask.

"You crashed."

"Yeah, but how'd I do?"

He puts out his hand and I take it, allowing him to help me up. Once I'm up, I straight my helmet as he bends down and picks up my bike.

"Number one most important rule of bike riding," he tells me, passing the bike to me. "Always - _always_ - look at where you're going. I mean, come _on, _man."

After that, I'm not allowed to look down at my feet again, just to prevent any more accidents. I do, however, as the practice of gliding continues, find ways to fall off my bike anyways, being knocked off balance by annoyingly nothing. Each time as I hit the dusty ground though, I thank Hiccup in my mind for telling me to wear elbow and knee pads and, more importantly, gloves. Without these gloves, despite how uncomfortable they are, my hands would probably look like I just sent them through a fan on full speed.

It only takes me another five or so minutes to master gliding without falling off my bike or losing balance. As Hiccup announces to me that he thinks it's time to move on to the next step, I can barely control my happiness. I've almost mastered how to ride a bike; and to think that, just about an half hour ago, I hadn't the faintest idea how to. Hiccup may not be the best teacher when it comes to this - he sounds like he's making most of this stuff up as he goes - but at least I'm moving forward, right?

The next step is to move forwards at a faster rate, and Hiccup says he'll be biking alongside me as I do this. He claims it's so he can keep up with me as I go, but I honestly believe it's because he just wants an excuse to get on his bike.

The next ten-ish minutes is full of momentarily keeping balance, looking ahead, and pedaling my feet, only to be met face to face with the ground again. As I fall for the who-knows-how-many'th time, I let out a frustrated groan.

"Hey, chill," Hiccup tells me, rounding his bike back towards me. "Don't expect to be a master at this after just an hour of practicing. I don't think _anyone's_ that fast of a learner."

"Not even _you_?" I throw back at him, dusting off my knee pads and getting back on my bike.

"_Definitely_ not even me," he says back, letting out a laugh. "I was, like, the most clumsy kid, alright. I mean, I still kinda am, but it was even _worse_ back then."

I lift my feet off the ground and push forward, rotating my feet with the pedals for a good thirty yards before feeling the loss of balance and quickly planting my feet at my sides again.

"Dang it…

"It's okay," Hiccup reminds me. "You'll get it."

"When did you learn to ride a bike anyways?" I ask, trying at my balance again.

"Eigh, I think I was about seven or so. My dad was the one that taught me, though he wasn't very good at it."

"I guess you take after him then."

"Hey, you know, I don't _have_ to help you learn how to ride. I could totally just let Lout cream you the day of the race."

The smile on my face fades a little as I realize this fact. "Oh… sorry…"

I hear Hiccup chuckle as I almost lose my balance, but quickly reposition myself, keeping me up right. "It's fine. But anyways. He wasn't very good at teaching me. He even forgot to make sure I was wearing gloves, so this one time, when I fell, I completely skinned up my hands. I didn't get back on that bike for, like… a month afterwards, I was so freaked out by it."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yeah. And, uh… my mom was _furious_ at him for it too. Couldn't believe he would let me bike without gloves on."

Losing my balance again, I tip to one side, but quickly catch myself. Hiccup's telling me something about how focusing on something in the distance would help me keep up straight, but all I hear is an illegible version of his voice. I hadn't lost my balance this last time because, well, I had lost my balance, but because a thought that has never occurred to me before presented itself in my mind.

Hiccup had just told me the story of the first time he rode a bike. He elaborated on a specific detail that he remembers even to this day, and he even recalled other people's reactions to it as well. He had told a story that even_ I_ could picture in my mind; given I don't know exactly what Hiccup here looked like when he was seven, but it's not that hard to guess. By hearing this story though, I was able to actually _imagine_, to actually see, someone else's memory.

And I'll never be able to do that with my own.

"Hey. You alright?"

Coming back into reality, I see Hiccup looking over his shoulder, a somewhat concerned expression on as he studies me. The other half of his expression, however, seems impressed, because I've been gliding without somehow stumbling off my bike this entire time.

"Yeah," I assure him with my best attempt at a smile, which I can guarantee is weak and unconvincing. "Just, uh… just thinking… about something."

"Best to keep your mind clear when you race," he tells me, turning back towards the road. "Or, in your case, when you're just riding in general. Don't want'cha running into any more trees, now do we."

As I let out a laugh, recalling the earlier memory, Hiccup pulls to a stop, so I follow suit. Looking ahead, I see that we've just reached what appears to be the top of a hill, both of us sitting at the highest point, looking down the long slope.

"Wanna give it a try?" I hear Hiccup ask from beside me.

"What? You mean… go down this hill?"

Hiccup shrugs. "If you feel like you're ready. Most of it will just be gliding, but what you'll _need_ to focus on more is brake control. You don't wanna go _too_ fast, right? So-"

"I'll need to have my hands on my brakes the entire time," I finish for him.

He gives me a quick nod, impressed that I remembered that from the first portion of my lessons. "Think you can handle that?"

I let out a soft sigh, staring down at the decently slopped hill. Where the road begins to level out, there's a T-section, one end leading back into town a whiles off, the other appearing to be heading into a small patch of wooded area.

"Okay," I finally go. "I'll, uh… I'll do it."

Hiccup smiles as he lifts one of his feet off the ground and places it firmly on his pedal. "That's the spirit."

We push off together, and as soon as my bike inches forward, I can feel it picking up an immense amount of speed. I do as Hiccup taught me when we started the lesson and press lightly on the brakes encased in my fingers. To my relief, I begin to slow down, but not too much as to still be rolling at a decent speed down the hill.

"There you go," I hear Hiccup praise me a few yards behind. "Now, if you wanna pick up speed, release the brakes, 'kay?"

I do as he suggests and unwrap my fingers from around the brake. In only seconds, I can feel that I'm going a bit faster than before.

Looking away from my hands, I stare back up at the road, and that's when it hits me. Having all this wind whipping around my face and through my hair sticking out from under this helmet feels freeing, like I can do, oh I don't know, some weird bike trick right now if I really tried. I have to squint my eyes just in order to see Hiccup speeding down a head of me now, his body lifted completely off his seat, his prosthetic leg appearing to be doing as much worm as his real one, his arms straight above the handlebars, his auburn hair dancing as he practically stands on his pedals. For some reason, I have the urge to see his face, to see the expression he holds when he's just simply riding a bike like this.

Hiccup says something back to me, but he doesn't say it loud enough for me to hear over my own thoughts. I'm still looking at him when his head whips back towards me, the expression I was expecting to see on his face not there; instead of a bright smile, his eyes squinted over like me through his messy mane, his eyes are wide as he lets out a yell that I can now hear.

"Jack! Watch out!"

I look forward, and that's when I see it.

A car, heading straight at me.

Without a moment of hesitation, I jerk my handlebars as hard as I can to the right, causing my front wheel and everything else to follow. The car lets out a piercing honk as it swerves around where I had just been, and I even think I hear Hiccup curse out loud as I roll off the road. My front tire comes in contact with some sort of hole, leading to me falling off and landing rather roughly to the rigid, jagged ground, a shocking pain rocketing up my forearm.

.

* * *

.

It had all happens so far.

One minute, we're both just gliding down the hill like it's no big deal, the wonderful wind blowing all around me, feeling like I'm about to take off from the ground and fly into the air. Then the next moment, I'm letting out every curse word I know as Jack somehow magically dodges the car that appeared out of almost nowhere, falling straight into a ditch on the other side of the road.

I launch myself off my bike, allowing it to skid to the ground without much care. I hear the car pull to a halt and the sound of a door bursting open reaches my ears as I sprint across the road and jump into the ditch.

Jack's just lying there, his helmet hanging slightly off the side of his head as he holds on to his forearm. I pay no attention to his abandoned bike, now covered in a thick layer of gravel, as I kneel down beside him, straightening the helmet on his head.

"_Gods_. Are you alright?" I ask through heavy breaths. "Ah man, that was really close, Jack! You could have _died_ if you hadn't dodged that car!"

He looks up at me, his blue eyes still looking a little shocked with what had just happened. "Y-yeah," he tells me, his voice shaking as he speaks. "Yeah. I-I think I just got a little cut. No big deal." Lifting his hand from his arm, he reveals to me a series of about four to five lengthy cuts running down from his shoulder to the top of his elbow pad, trickles of blood seeping out of them.

"Oh, _wow_, man," I say, panic beginning to rise in my chest. I should've been paying more attention to him than I was. Instead of watching his back, I was too busy thinking about what I saw between my dad and Bertha last night; hell, that's all I've managed to think about today when I haven't been instructing Jack with his biking. Some teacher _I _am.

"Is it bad?" Jack asks, breaking my train of thought. "Am I going to die?"

"No, you idiot. You're not gonna die," I tell him. "We, uh… we really need to get-"

"Hey… i-is he okay?"

Both of us turn our heads in the direction of the higher sounding voice in sync, and I come eye to eye with a small girl with short dark hair, bright highlights trailing through certain strands. She's leaned forward, her hands propped up on her knees as she looks worryingly down at the two of us with her huge pink hued eyes.

"Yeah," I reply, trying to get my voice steady again. "Yeah. He just took a-"

"Tooth?"

I look quickly over at Jack, who's now sitting up on his good arm, staring up at the girl with squinted eyes, like he's trying to make sure he isn't mistaken with who she is.

Apparently he isn't, because her eyes get big as she says back, "J-Jack? Wait… _Jack_?"

"You know her?" I ask him, and he gives me series of small nods, not taking his eyes off of the girl. Before I can ask how, he's up on his feet, still clutching on to his damaged arm. His legs are still shaking a bit from his earlier impact, so I wrap my arm around his thin waist as we climb our way out of the ditch together.

"A-are you okay, Jack?" this girl Jack referred to as Tooth asks as we emerge from the hole. "I… I didn't even _see_ you. I mean, I guess I did… but I assumed you'd move out the way, and then you didn't and I _totally_ panicked and-"

"Tooth, Tooth. It's fine," Jack assure her from beside me, somehow managing to put on a decently looking smile after what had just happened. "It's okay. It was my fault."

I look down at his arm to see that some of his blood as transferred itself on to my bare shoulder, leaving a couple small, red blotches on my skin. "So, it's great that you guys are all hunky dory and whatnot, but can we all agree that it doesn't matter _who_ caused this and get this kid patched up?" I ask with a hurried tone. "He's getting blood all over me."

The Tooth girl pipes up then, saying she has a first aid kit hidden somewhere in her car, so we follow her to her old Volkswagen two-door just down the street a ways. She's got herself halfway in the car, ripping and tossing things around inside, as I lower Jack to sitting position against the front tire.

"Sorry about this," he apologizes softly. "I should've been watching where I was going."

"Like _hell_ you should've," I let out with a laugh, and he smiles back at me.

"Sorry…"

"It's… it's fine. As long as you're alright, then it doesn't matter." I look over at Tooth, who's now completely disappeared into her car, rummaging through the passenger's seat. "How do you even _know_ this chick anyways? I've never seen her before in my life."

"I think her dad's my dentist or something," Jack explains to me, looking briefly over at Tooth, stilling tearing through her car. "I meet her when I went in for a checkup a couple of days ago. We talked some."

"Is her real name _actually_ Tooth?"

"Pfft. If her name's actually Tooth, then that means you lied to me and _your_ name's actually Hiccup."

Giving him a hard glare, all he does is smirk back at me.

"No, her name's not actually Tooth. She, uh… she has a tooth on her necklace. I don't actually know her real name. It was just the first thing that popped into my mind."

"Here it is!" Tooth pulls herself out form the front seat, a small, white box with a red cross made out of duct tape printed clearly on the front. She crouches down on the opposite side of Jack, lifting the lid of the box open. "Do you think band aids will do?"

"I think we're going to need something a little bit bigger than just band aids," I tell her. She leans across Jack to take a look at his cuts, and when she sees them after he removes his now slightly blood stained hand, her eyes grow as wide as a deer's caught in headlights. The small girl instantly goes back to trifling through the box, mumbling something about maybe having some gauze strips somewhere in there. When she successfully finds the gauze and some antibiotic ointment, the two of us switch spots, making it to where she has better access to Jack's wounds.

"What's that?" Jack asks as Tooth rips open one of the antibiotic packets.

I give him a weird look, since who doesn't know what that horrid stuff is - I'm pretty sure every kid while growing up hated that stuff with a burning passion. Jack doesn't see me give him the skeptic look though, because Tooth is telling him it's to make sure his cuts don't get infected.

"Is it going to hurt?" he asks next, looking wearily at the opened packet in her hand.

Tooth looks hesitant, but answers truthfully. "A little."

"It's just gonna sting for a moment," I warn him.

He nods his head and allows his body to tense up as Tooth reaches out for his arm and begins to apply the ointment. He cringes, his pale hands turning into fists as he lets out a hissing sound. Tooth soothes him though with her words, telling him it'll be over soon. I wish there was something for me to do, since, I'll admit, it_ is_ partly my fault he's in this mess, but I can't think of anything to do rather than just crouch here and try and be supportive.

Tooth plants one of the gauze strips to the top of Jack's wound, asking me to hold it there as she rips off some tape. She makes fast work of this, getting the entirety of the cut covered in less time than it would've taken me to just cut the first strip of tape.

In no time, Jack's all patched up and is as good as new.

"Thanks for all your help," I say to Tooth once Jack's wandered back towards the ditch to collect his probably brutally damaged bike. "How exactly do you, uh… know Jack anyways?"

The dark skinned girl lets out a small grin as she runs her hand through her wavy hair. "Ah. Well… I'm an intern at my dad's dentist office, you see, and he, well… Jack showed my little sis a magic trick." She lets out a laugh, like she can remember the incident like it was yesterday. "And uh… he asked me if I was the tooth fairy."

I try to fight from allowing a smile to spread across my face at hearing this, but it's useless. "That seems like something he would ask."

Tooth smiles in return. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. He's uh… he's kinda a weirdo… honestly."

We both look over as Jack emerges from the ditch with his bike all coated in dirt. Now that I look at it, I guess the "damage" done to it isn't all too bad; nothing a good hose down and a quick polish job can't fix.

"Ever since that day though, I've always wondered… _why_ the tooth fairy?" I hear Tooth ask more to herself than to me. "I mean… I get that we were at a dentist's office, but…"

Remembering what Jack had told me earlier, I point at her necklace, the one Jack had mentioned held a tiny tooth on it. Looking at me a bit confused, her hand moves up and touches it.

"My… my necklace?"

"There's a tooth on it," I point out the obvious.

Tooth lifts the charm from her collarbone, a laugh coming from her grin as she looks back down at the tooth between her fingers.

"Of course. I should've thought of that…"

"Should've thought of what?" Jack ask as he approaches us, his bike by his side.

"Thanks again for all your help, uh… Tooth," I go, making it to where neither of us have to answer Jack's question, just to steer clear of any potential awkwardness." I was, uh… not gonna lie, but I definitely wasn't prepared for he to take a spill like that. So thanks for being here to, y'know… help out and stuff."

"Yeah, well, you two need to be more careful," Tooth lectures us, though she still has that toothy grin on from before. "Luckily Jack here was wearing the proper gear, so that helped him more than anything."

I nudge him in the arm, and he rolls his blue eyes.

"I'll be more careful, don't worry," he tells her. "Thanks though, Tooth."

By the look on her face, I can tell Tooth's in that awkward position where you can tell she was about to turn and leave, but then thought of something else to say, but is still contemplating on whether or not she wants to say it. Before I can ask her what's wrong, she simply says, "Ana."

"Hm?" Jack and I both go on cue.

"My name's… my name's Ana. Ana Farry."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised to hear that I actually have heard that name before somewhere at school. I think this girl was the valedictorian last year for the sophomore class or something, except, on the announcements, they introduced her as _Tati_ana Farry, not just Ana.

"I like Tooth more," I hear Jack say next to me with a shrug. "Suits you better, I think."

Tooth opens her mouth, but closes it before any words can come out. I probably would've had the same reaction if someone had said something like that to me, but by the way Tooth is smiling at Jack and nodding her head, I can't quite say that she disagrees with him.

"Yeah, well… see ya, boys," she says, reopening the driver's door of her car and flicking her hand in our directions. "Say outta trouble now, you hear?"

Jack replies first. "Can't make any promises."

Tooth gives him a knowing look, followed with an eye roll and a shake of the head. As I hear her put her car into gear and drive off down the road, I make my way over to where I had dropped my bike, hoping I hadn't done too much damage when I jumped off of it earlier. I pick up the bike, dusting off the seat, as Jack walks up to my side, his bike still in hand.

"You're turning into a real sass master," I tell him. "Talking to a girl you barely know like that."

"Well, you know," he says back, smiling. "I _am_ learning from the best."


	7. Mad World

**Ugh. This chapter just didn't want to get written.**

I'm actually pretty happy with this one though. We get to cover a lot of important ground with the two boy getting to know each other, and then there's that last paragraph. Phew, don't even get my _started_ on that sucker.

I do, however, have some bad news. I'm not going to be able to update for a good two weeks, since I'm going out to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with my family with no wiki connection. So... no updates. But I will totally be writing out the next chapter and planning out future chapters while I'm away, so expect an update around the tenth of August.

Thank you all so much for reading this and for sending in your reviews! I totally eat up every compliment and criticism I get, so they're very much appreciated!

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* * *

.

The rest of Hiccup's and my routine bike practices go along a lot more smoothly compared to our first. Although I still somehow manage to find myself being thrown to the ground on a regular basis, it's not quite as frequent as before, and I'm glad to say that I actually have improved quite a bit. I have the whole balancing thing down, and picking up speed and making sharp turns is coming more naturally to me now.

Though I feel a lot more confident with my biking than a week ago, Hiccup stays realistic about the upcoming race against who I discover is actually his loathed cousin. I'd like to think I stand a chance against this Lout guy - he's definitely heavier than me, so wouldn't that mean I'd have a speed advantage of some sort? - but Hiccup is quite frank when he says there's no chance of me crossing the finish line before him.

"I mean… you'll definitely finish the race, Jack," he tacks on when he sees my dejected reaction to this news. "Not before him, no, but you'll… y'know. You'll finish. Which is a _huuuuge_ improvement, I think, with where you were when we started, right?"

Even though it's somewhat of a downer to admit that I won't be winning this race, I guess losing to Lout won't be the absolute end of the world. Hiccup claims that Lout didn't accept his challenge to race me because he's out to get revenge for me messing up his paint job, but because he just wants a reason to be the center of attention. Since Hiccup has known this boy for what he tells me is his entire _life_, I don't see a reason to not trust his words.

At least, out of this experience, I've not only learned how to ride a bike - which seems to be a need-to-know skill in this small town - but I've also grown closer to Hiccup. No, I won't say we're best friends or anything like that, but things definitely have changed between us compared to when we had first met. When he talks to me now, he mostly succeeds in making eye contact, when he used to only be able to look at anything _besides_ me it seemed. Not only has he improved with locking eyes, but our conversations have moved from being somewhat strained and awkward to, well… indigenous feeling. He laughs and smiles a lot more than he used to, and his sassy and sarcastic remarks are still intact with his odd sense of humor, which I've learned to play along with.

Despite the fact that we've both gotten to this comfortable place in our relationship though, we still haven't moved much in the department that has to do with personally knowing each other. I've tried every so often to bring up something deeper than riding bikes - like his home life or other friendships he has - but Hiccup always just shrugs me off, instantly switching the topic back to how leaning forward slightly will increase my speed. I eventually stop pestering him about it when I find that not only am I not making any advances in my strategy, but he isn't making any attempts to actually get to know me either. I suppose, when he wants to tell me about those things, he will. Until then… well, I guess I should just enjoy his company.

We stick to just riding everywhere we can go, practicing on different surfaces with different obstacles; anything that'll better prepare me for what I'm going to face this upcoming Saturday. What started out as just me riding up and down the main street of the outskirts of town eventually leads to the two of us venturing off into the middle of town, where the roads are paved and smooth. That surface change in itself ends up being somewhat of a challenge for me, since I've grown accustomed to roads that are bumpy and jagged, but I get over it quickly, which impresses Hiccup more than he'll admit, I can tell.

During our first days with riding in town, some kids around our age would spit words of hate at us, saying that I don't stand a chance against Lout, apparently the long-standing king of bike racing. After a couple of days of taking Hiccup's advice though and ignoring them, the constant mockery fades away until the kids don't even bat an eyelash at us coming down the street anymore.

"Why do they do that?" I ask as we reach the familiar dirt road leading back to my house. It's only two days before the race, and I can slowly feel this thing Emma told me is called nervousness creeping into my chest. "I mean, we all _know_ I'm not going to win. Why are they rubbing it in?"

Hiccup lets out a sigh from beside me as we continue to pedal. "Some people just…" He trails off, allowing only the sounds of our bikes to remain.

"Just… what?" I ask.

"Just… mean. Some people are just _mean_."

There's something about how he says the last word, the emphasis that leads me to believe that this boy understands something that I still haven't quite grasped yet. I say, "You sound like you're used to this kind of treatment from them. Are you?" and he answers without even skipping a single beat.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Taken aback by how quickly he answered and even by his cold tone, I look away and down at my feet, still pedaling. "Oh… o-okay…"

After biking in silence for only a moment or two, Hiccup begins to review me on everything I learned that day, a regular thing we do as our practices draw to an end. As he's asking me what one would have to do in order to make an effective and quick U-turn, I notice something out of the corner of my eye positioned on the side of the road. Hiccup continues on as I turn my head to see two children, one a boy with short, dark brown hair, and the other a girl with a nest of blonde on her head, standing behind what I think is a box turned upside down. There's a pitcher and a dozen or so paper cups sitting on top of the box in front of them, a small sign with LEMONADE 4 SALE - 50¢ scribbled on it almost illegibly in red.

"What's that?" I ask, breaking into Hiccup's question.

He looks over to where I'm referring, giving off a vibe of being a little frustrated with me for not paying attention to his review, but also confused on what I'm talking about. When he sees the children though, who are now waving towards us with large smiles on their faces, he lightens up.

"That's a lemonade stand, duh," he tells me. "Didn't you ever run a lemonade stand when you were a kid? It was, like… a simple way of gettin' some cash back then, even though who really _needed_ money at that age, right?"

I shake my head. "I've never heard of it before."

Hiccup gives me that weird look he always gives me when I say I don't know something that I suppose every normal person would know. Even after having to receive this look for the last week on several occasions, I still don't know how to react to it. I haven't been able to find the right time to tell him _why_ I don't know all these things, but then again, maybe I shouldn't. My parents - especially my mother - have stressed to me often that some people just won't understand and may even take advantage of my situation, which is the last thing I want.

After receiving this look so many times from Hiccup, the urge to just tell him is becoming difficult to fight though. Not only do I want to tell him so he'll stop looking at me funny, but because I honestly just want him to _know_.

"What planet are you even _from_?" I hear Hiccup say. By the way he's wearing that smirk on his freckled face, his gapped front teeth showing, I can tell he's just messing with me now.

I decide to play along, like usual. "Ah, well… seeing as you've caught me… I guess I have no choice but to tell you the truth of who I really am. Hiccup… I'm an alien."

"You don't say?"

"I know it may be somewhat of a shock to you…"

"Oh no, trust me. It's not."

"Well, that's good. So, how do you feel about me harvesting your brains for research?"

"Uh… a little…"

"Scared?"

"To say the least."

"Good, good. I'll need to record that in my space journal when I get home. Human reactions to life threatening situations are very important data to log you know."

"I'm sorry, but do I even know you?"

"No, I don't believe you really do."

"Yeah, uh… let's go get some lemonade."

We bike our ways up to the lemonade stand, Hiccup fishing in his back pocket for his wallet as he explains to me briefly how a lemonade stand works. Both the children seem to be rather excited to see us, but the boy, who's the eldest of the two, tries to hide it - unlike the younger girl, who's probably only four and now jumping around the stand laughing, her messy blonde hair flying all around her.

"Two lemonades, please, young sir," Hiccup says as we come to a stop in front of the stand, him pulling a dollar out to hand to the young boy. I'm about to protest about him paying for me, but he manages to wave me off before I can even get a word out.

"Wow. Only a dollar for two lemonades," I say, smiling down at the boy and girl as I lean on my handlebars. "That's a pretty good deal you've got going here."

"Thanks!" the boy says, a large smile showing off a missing front tooth appearing on his face. "We wanted to make it cheaper than the stuff they sell at The Ring, right, Sophie? Uh… _Sophie_?" At not hearing a reply, the boy looks around frantically, his brown eyes growing large with fear. "Ah man, Soph! If I lose her again, Mom'll _kill_ me!"

"Don't worry, don't worry," I hear Hiccup laugh as I look down and see the little girl sitting by his foot closest to the stand, poking the toes of his shoe. "She's right here, safe and sound, aren't ya?" The girl named Sophie looks up at him with the biggest green eyes I've ever seen before, and lets out a laugh, along with a "Jamie, Jamie! Robot! Beep boop boop!"

"Soph, what are you talking…" the boy supposedly named Jamie starts, leaning over the stand to see who I assume is his little sister, nearly knocking over the pitcher of lemonade in the process. As soon as he stands and looks down at the little girl though, his eyes grow twice their original size. "WOAH!" he exclaims, a large grin peeling across his face. "Are you some kind of _robot_ or something?"

In all honestly, I'm a little confused by this statement, mainly because I can't tell if he's talking to me or Hiccup anymore. By the way I hear Hiccup chuckle though, Sophie continuing to sing, "Robot, robot, rooooobot! Beep beep beep boop!" I can tell the question was directed towards him.

"Yeah, uh… I guess I kinda am, aren't I?" Hiccup say, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. "More _part_ robot than anything, buuuut… eigh, close enough."

I look over at Hiccup strangely, wondering what he's talking about, as Jamie pours our lemonades and continues to obsess over the fact that he's apparently meeting a part robot for the first time. When I look down at Hiccup's freckle covered legs resting on either side of his stationary bike, since I hear Sophie saying some illegible gibberish down there at his foot, that's when the pieces begin to fall into place.

His prosthetic leg. That's made out of _metal_.

I had noticed the odd limb upon meeting him last week, sure, but I never thought of pointing it out, because, even after two weeks of being out of the hospital, I already had an understanding that there are just certain things you don't bring up with people. And a lost limb just struck me as one of those touchy topics, also considering the fact that I don't know exactly how he lost it.

That doesn't mean curiosity wasn't taking over the best of me however.

My train of thought is broken by Hiccup passing me a paper cup filled to the brim with lemonade over his handlebars, the ice inside of it so cold I can feel it on my fingertips. I start listening to the conversation unraveling in front of me again, letting Hiccup's prosthetic leave my mind. Jamie tells us that one of his favorite characters in this televisions show he and Sophie watches every day has one leg and that he beats people up with it sometimes, which makes me laugh.

"Do _you_ beat people up with your leg?" Jamie asks as he stuffs the dollar Hiccup had given him into a piggy bank.

"All the time," I answer before Hiccup can. "If you look closely at the local kids around here, you'll notice that they have a bunch of bruises on their calves." I twist my leg around, revealing a smaller blue and purple bruise near my shin that I gained after falling off my bike and having the pedal smack up against it rather hard. "See that right there? That's a _perfect_ example of what that leg of his can do."

Jamie looks down at my naked shin wide eyed, as Sophie crawls over towards me and pokes it, giggling like crazy.

"It's not good to lie to children, Jack," Hiccup tells me, taking a sip from his lemonade. "You're poisoning their young minds."

"I'm just warning them of your brutality. No harm in that."

"Yeah, except when it's a _lie_."

"I don't know _where_ you're getting this whole me lying thing from, but I can assure you that that itself is a lie."

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that."

"You guys are funny," Jamie pipes in with a giggle. He then turns and addresses me directly, looking rather curious. "Why do you have white hair?"

"He's an alien," Hiccup says before I can, and I can't help but smile at the reference from earlier. "Part of a rare race that has hair that changes color depending on their intelligence level. They're endangered you know."

"Wow," Jamie goes, him and his little sister both now staring wide eyed up at my hair. "An _alien_? Really?"

I'm about to dismiss this and say Hiccup's only joking with them, but he continues to milk it without giving me a chance to stop him. "Oh yeah. The darker the hair, their smarter they are. The lighter it is… well…"

"IIIIIII think we should go," I interrupt before he can finish his sentence. The siblings let out a collective "awwwww" as Hiccup smirks my way and mounts himself back on to the seat of his bike, his lemonade still in hand. Looking back down at Jamie, avoiding Hiccup's smug look, I say, "It was nice meeting you kids. Thanks for the lemonade!"

"No, thank _you_ for buying it!" Jamie says back with a grin. I hear little Sophie sing, "Bye bye, robot and alien!" as we pedal off, and I have a hard time not smiling from ear to ear.

We move further down the road towards my house, only maybe half a mile away from where Jamie ad Sophie had had their lemonade stand set up. Hiccup takes periodic sips from his cup, gripping on to the handlebar with one hand as he does so. My eyes trail down to his prosthetic leg when he isn't watching, and my mind is instantly bursting with questions that I really want to be answered: How did he get it? When did it happened? Is it hard, only having one real leg?

Once we approach my house and the sun finally gets the best of us, we pull to the side of the road and park ourselves under a nearby tree. I'm finally able to take a sip of my lemonade as I hear Hiccup next to me say, "Cute kids, huh?"

I nod, taking in the sourness of the drink.

"I think they're your neighbors," he tells me, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting out a yawn. "The Bennett's or something?"

I nod again, this time more absent-mindedly. I think my parents mentioned something about our neighbors being named the Bennett's, but I'm concentrating too hard on the metal that is Hiccup's leg to really dwell on it too hard.

"Yeah, I think I babysat for Jamie when he was a baby," Hiccup goes on. "He was probably the soundest sleeper I ever had to deal with during my short-lived babysitting career in middle-"

"How'dyouloseyourleg?"

The words come out faster than I can ever think them in my head, which leads to them sounding a little like Sophie's gibberish from earlier. The worst part, however, is the fact that Hiccup actually _understood_ them, which means he's now staring at me with this stunned expression that's making me regret my question more than anything, and I don't know what to say, because he's looking at me, and I can feel him about to dismiss it like every other personal question I ask him, and then the rest of the day is going to be so embarrassing and awkward and-

"I'm sorry," I say without even thinking. "That was rude. You don't have-"

"No," Hiccup goes, startling me slightly, since I hadn't been expecting him to talk back. "No. It's, uh… it's fine." I hear him chuckle a little, placing his lemonade in the dried up grass beside him. "I was actually wondering when you'd ask me about it, not gonna lie. Took you long enough."

"Oh… well… I would've asked sooner if I knew you wanted me to."

When I see him let out this tiny smile - and yes! It's one of his genuine ones - I know that this conversation that I was so frightened of having only seconds ago is going to go a lot smoother than I anticipated.

"It was a bike accident," he tells me simply. "Back when I was, uh… thirteen, I think? Dang, now that I think about it, that was only two summer ago. Wow… feels like a lot longer than that. Ha... anyways… uh… I don't remember who I was racing, but I think it was either Lout or one of the twins or someone, but that doesn't really matter, not really. But… something happened? With my bike, I mean. I don't think I checked it before riding that day, which was the _stupidest_ mistake anyone could make. But I think my chain popped or something, and I lost control of the bike, and, well… I don't quite remember _how_ it happened exactly, since I passed out really soon afterwards, but I think my bike crushed my leg up against a wall or something like that, and completely destroyed it. The only thing they could do after was to just… y'know… cut it off. So they did, and now-" He leans forward, knocking his fist against the metal steam that is now his leg. "-I have this beautiful contraption attached to me forever and always, 'til death do us part."

And, with hearing this story, suddenly all the pieces fall perfectly into place. Fish had told me just a week ago about an accident that Hiccup was in involving a bike. Of _course_ that accident was the one that resulted in him losing a leg. I mean, there's nothing else physically wrong with this guy, so that had to be it. Wow, how could I be so stupid as to not see the connections?

"Not much of a cool story, I know," Hiccup goes on when I don't say anything right away. "I was thinking, y'know, after it happened, of making up some awesome horror story that would totally impress all the girls and stuff… but there were people that saw what really happened, and Lout would _definitely_ call me out on it, so that idea was shot down pretty quick."

"But you still bike?" I ask, looking up at him. "I mean, even after it took your leg?"

Hiccup just shrugs, suddenly not being able to keep his eyes on me anymore. "Well… yeah. I mean, sure, I lost my leg because of it, but… whatever. I just make sure that my bike is always in tip-top shape before getting on it, so I don't lose the other one."

"Is it hard though? Biking with it?"

Another shrug, still no eyes contact. "Kinda. I mean… at first it was. But walking and doing pretty much anything involving my legs was hard, so it wasn't like biking was any different."

"But you're used to it now?"

"Well, yeah. I mean… I don't really think I had any other choice, now did I?"

Slowly shaking my head and leaning back against the tree behind me, I allow myself to take in what I've just learned. I feel like, with him telling me this, a door has been opened between us. Actually, now that I think about it, it's more like a door's been _cracked_ open, only slightly, since there is still so much I want to ask this boy. I, however, restrain myself from letting my mouth run, since I'm thankful for just getting this piece of insightful information.

Hiccup gets up then, dusting off the grass from his shorts. "Wanna go get some shakes at The Ring or something?" he asks me, cocking his head in the direction of town. "You did really well today, so I figured you earned it. And because it's just _too damned hot out here."_

"Under one condition," I say as he pulls up his bike.

"And that condition iiiiiis… what exactly?"

I smirk, getting up from under the tree. "That you tell me your real name."

Hiccup stares at me for a moment, a deadpan look on his face, and then he lets out a loud "HA!", catching me completely off guard. When I ask him what's so funny, he simply says, "Dude! I've been goin' by Hiccup for so long, I don't even remember what my real name is anymore!"

.

* * *

.

As the two of us sit at Fish's and my usual table at The Ring, waiting for Astrid to come take our orders, I can tell that Jack wants to probably continue asking me questions. Now don't get me wrong. I like Jack, I really do. He's definitely not someone I pictured myself becoming close with, no, but you know what? What happens happens and I'm not going to argue with it.

This whole him asking me questions about my life outside of our daily practices thing though? Yeah, I'd rather _not_.

Instead, I get him talking about the upcoming school year to keep him distracted, despite the fact that this is the last thing I really want to talk about. The first month of summer vacation has been nearly used up and I hadn't even realized it. That's just awesome.

Jack tells me he's seventeen, so I assume that means he's going to be a mighty senior this year. He doesn't seem very arrogant about it though, which is odd, since most incoming seniors this year are really big-headed about their sudden "authority".

"What grade are you going to be in?" he asks once I finish explaining to him the system that is our high school hierarchy system.

"Stupid sophomore," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"What's so bad about being a sophomore?"

"Honestly? Not much. I'm just tired of being an underclassman, that's all."

"An under-what-man?"

I feel like I should be used to this - him asking me what simple things are - but, in all honesty, I'm not. Ever since he asked me what a predicament was when we first met, it's just been one of those things that just… I don't know. It's weird. I try to not point it out though, since it may be some touchy mental disorder that might offend him if I were to speak up about it, but that doesn't mean I'm not curious.

"An underclassman is someone that's, like, in their lower two grades, y'know?" I explain, giving in to his ignorance like I usually do. "An underclassmen is someone who's a freshman or sophomore - like me and Fish - and an upperclassman is someone who's a junior or senior - like you and Tooth."

That familiar name quickly catches his attention, his eyes seeming to have a little sparkle in them at hearing it. "Tooth's an upperclassman?"

I can't help but let out a chuckle at his reaction to her name, but decide not to say a word about it, for his sake. "Yeah. Last I heard, she's gonna be a junior this year."

"Oh… I didn't know that."

Astrid glides up to us then, her blonde bangs clipped back out of her eyes and her long braid thrown over her bare shoulder. Seeming a little stunned as she pulls up to our table, I guess because she's never seen someone other than Fish accompanying me here before, she turns towards me and asks, "Who's this?"

"I'm Jack!" Jack introduces himself before I can. Astrid raises an eyebrow at his enthusiasm.

"He just moved into town at the beginning of the summer," I explain further for her. "Jack, this is Astrid. She's a, uh… a friend."

"Yeah. Something like that," Astrid says under her breath, and I stick my tongue out at her. "What can I get you two on this awfully humid day then?"

"Two shakes," I say. "One straight-up chocolate aaaaand…"

Jack says his order right on cue. "One vanilla with rainbow sprinkles!"

Astrid jots something down on her little notepad, barely lifting her pen as she goes, then looks up at Jack, narrow her eyes at him. "I think I've seen you before. Or at least _heard_ of you. Aren't you that kid that messed up Lout's bike a week ago or whatever? The one that challenged him to race this weekend?"

"How do you know about that?" Jack asks, seeming genuinely surprised.

"It's a little thing called the Wildfire Effect," I explain to Jack as Astrid rolls her eyes, taking a seat across the table from the both of us. "It occurs mostly in little towns like Berk here."

"The _Wildfire_ _Effect_?"

"It means that it spread like wildfire," Astrid explains for him. "I mean, _everyone_ in town knows about it now. It's kinda a super big deal, since no one's ever challenged Lout to a race before. Say, are you any good at biking? 'Cause you're gonna need to be _really_ good if you plan on beatin' Lout."

Jack shrugs in response. "I'm alright. Hiccup's been teaching me a lot of stuff though, so I think I'll be fine. I don't plan on winning. Just crossing the finish line."

Astrid's stare goes slowly from him to me, and the look she gives me says I've apparently done something wrong. Jack can't see this though, because she shoots me this grin and politely asks, with a slight edge in her tone that's masked pretty well, "Can I talk to you for a moment, Hiccup? In _private_?"

I know there's not physical way out of this, so I nod and we both get up, leaving Jack alone at the table. I follow her a few yards away, I suppose making sure Jack isn't in hearing range. Right before we're about to round the corner of the kitchen, she cuts sharply in front of me, her braid nearly whipping me in the face.

"Okay, what'd I do?" I ask, and she narrows her eyes.

"Are you telling me that that boy isn't going to try and win against Lout this weekend? Because I feel like that completely defeats the purpose of him racin' him to begin with."

"Yes, that's initially the plan," I tell her. "I mean, he _just_ learned how to bike, Astrid. He isn't the most advan-"

"_WHAT_!?"

Ah, man. Probably should've left that part out…

"Yeah," I go on, scratching the back of my neck, looking anywhere _but_ at the girl that could potentially beat me to a bloody pulp if she wanted to in front of me. "He didn't know how to ride a bike when I met him, sooooo I've been, uh… I've been teaching him. And stuff. He's actually gotten really good."

I look up, and Astrid doesn't look quite as upset as she does utterly shocked. I don't know if this is a good or bad thing.

"You're gonna get him _killed_, Hiccup," she breaths. "He's gonna _die_ racing against Lout."

"Oh, stop it," I say, rolling my eyes at her. "Listen, I've been teaching him the basics, and even some tricks as well, so I think-"

"Noooo, I don't think you understand what you're up against here. Lout… dear Gods… Lout bikes _dirty_, alright? He doesn't care if the person he's biking against is advanced or not. He's gonna do whatever he can to win. That. Race."

"Aaaaaand I've been teaching Jack how to bike dirty too! We practice on dirt roads and rocky terrain and stuff, and I push him around when we go against each other! He's got a good sense of balance and he's super quick. Really, he is, Astrid. No, I don't believe he's gonna be able to win, but he'll definitely get out of the race _alive_."

Astrid's shaking her head, like she's trying to shake my words away, which honestly kind of bugs me. Why can't she accept the fact that, no, Jack's not going to win against Lout - like I know she wants him to - but hey, it's not like he's going to get completely massacred either.

"That's not enough, Hiccup," she hisses at me, looking quickly around to see if any of her co-workers are watching in our argument. "Whatever you've taught him, it isn't enough. He's gonna get hurt. Like, really bad."

"Oh please. Have some faith in me, will ya."

"How can I have faith in your when you're basically preparing him for slaughter?"

"I'm not going to let him get _killed_. Geez, Astrid."

"And why in Thor's name should I believe that load of crap?"

"Because he's my _friend_, that's why."

Astrid opens her mouth, appearing to be armed with a comeback, but nothing comes out from between her lips. She holds my stare, her blue eyes meeting mine, and I hold it for as long as I can, wanting her to see the weight in my words. Closing her mouth, she takes a step away from me, allowing her shoulders, hunched for an attack, to relax.

"Listen," I continue when she's clearly given me the floor to speak again. "He's not gonna get hurt, you hear me? He's a good biker and I've taught him _everything_ I know. There is no way on this green earth that he's going to even get a _scrap on his knee_, alright? He's going to be _fine_."

"I really hope you're right, Haddock."

"And I am. Just… be there this Saturday. Watch him race, and you'll see what I mean."

Astrid shakes her head, looking over at where Jack is still sitting, who seems too occupied with the sugar packet in his hands to have heard us.

"If he gets hurt-"

"He won't."

"_If_ he does," Astrid goes on, walking past me and towards the ordering station, ignoring my protest, "I'm blaming you and you alone." Before I can say anything back, she's off, gliding through tables and chairs, away from me and my anger.

I stalk my way back to our table and, as I sit down, Jack surprises me by asking, "So what was all that about?" I had assumed he hadn't heard - or at least seen - a thing between Astrid and me, since he had looked so preoccupied, but I suppose I was wrong.

"She… doesn't think my teaching methods when it comes to biking are good," I only halfway lie. The last thing I want to tell him right now is that she things he's going to get killed this weekend. Yeah, that's a good way to boost his confidence.

"Well, that's stupid," Jack says bluntly, tossing the sugar packet back with the others. "Is she really your friend? I mean, she didn't seem to really like you that much."

"Honestly?" I ask, and he nods he head at me. "She's kinda the girl I've been in love with since I was eight-years-old. But she's also one of the main girls that absolutely hates my guts."

Jack's eyebrows raise at this. "That's… rough."

"You bet it is. Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, uh… actually… there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Shoot, I should've given him the opportunity to pick the topic for a conversation without even realizing it. Knowing him, he's going to ask me about my _family_ _life_ or my _friendships_ and just, bleh. Those are the last things I want to have to talk about right-

"I wanted to come clean with why I ask so many, um… obvious questions."

Oh? Now _this_ might be interesting. I show he's got my attention by leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms across my chest. He licks his lips, showing that he's nervous, and I begin to wonder what type of information he's about to tell me.

"Well… this is going to sound kind of weird, but… I, uh…" Taking a deep breath, he claps his hands together and says, "I was in a coma."

Say _what_ now?

"It was like… there was an accident. You know, kind of like what happened to you," he goes on when I don't say anything. "And I hit my head. _Really_ hard. I don't know how or on what or when it happened, but I guess I nearly died or something because of the impact? I don't know, but I lost, like… _all_ my memory. Like, I woke up and didn't know who I was or where I was or what had happened to me. I couldn't even remember how to _speak_."

"Woah," I breathe out without meaning to.

"Yeah, I know. Like, I could form the words in my head, but I couldn't get them out. And I looked at my hand and was just thought, 'What _is_ this?', you know."

"Wait, wait, wait" I stop him before he can go on. "You're telling _me_ that you didn't even know what your _hand_ was?" What the hell does that even mean? I mean, I've heard of people losing their memories after getting in some accident involving their head, but not being able to remember simply body parts or words? There's got to be something more to this kid's story that he's not telling me, because that just doesn't make any sense.

"No. I looked at my hand was just… I was in shock, to tell you the truth," he explains, holding up his hand and looking down at it, like he was remembering the memory. "It was so weird. But that's what I did for the first week out of the hospital. Emma - my little sister - she would teach me words and their meanings, and we would play games to get me thinking again. And as soon as I heard a word, I would instantly remember what it was and what it meant. It was just… it was just weird."

"Tell me about it," I laugh. "Dang. That's… wow."

"Yeah. But… yeah. I really wanted to tell you, because, well… you give me these looks. Like, when I don't know what something is. And I felt like, if I told you my situation, you won't do that anymore. You'd… you know… understand."

I'm suddenly at a loss for words as he stares down at his lap, looking a little embarrassed to be admitting this to me, when, really, I should be the one that feels embarrassed - which I totally do, oh Gods. I hadn't even realized that _that_ was the reason why this kid didn't get what a lemonade stand was. I thought he was just slow or something, not suffering from freaking _memory_ _loss_.

"Wow, man," I somehow manage to say. "I… I'm sorry. I mean, about being so, uh… so obvious with that. If I had known…"

"I know. And it's okay," Jack says, smiling up at me. "That's why I decided to tell you."

"Why'd you wait so long though?"

"I… I needed to build up enough courage to actually tell you."

I nod, letting his simple words sink in. Man. To tell someone something like this - that you were in a coma for x-amount of days and woke up not even knowing who you were. Not going to lie, but I understand how that must take some balls.

"Do you… know what happened to you? Like, for you to hit your head so hard?"

Jack shakes his head. "No. Not a clue."

"Have you thought of maybe asking your parents about it?"

"They don't know what happened either. They weren't there."

"Ah… well… that's a bummer."

Jack shrugs, leaning back in his chair more comfortably. "It's not the worse. I mean, it'd be nice to know exactly what happened, but no one else was around, so… no luck there."

"I guess it's for the better," I tell him. When he gives me a quizzical look, I continue. "Like… maybe if you knew what happened, it would change how you act now. I mean, I don't know if you were someone totally different in your, uh… 'past life', so to speak, but I think it's good to move on from stuff like that. You're a new person now. You should take advantage of that."

Geez. What in the world am I even saying? Here I am, telling him to move on from past events, act like they never played any important role in his life, when I can't even do it myself. Seven years later, and I still can't help but look at that picture on my nightstand, wondering how things would've been so much different if I hadn't-

"I suppose you're right," Jack says, interrupting my thoughts, which I'm thankful for. The last thing I need to be thinking about right now is my mom.

As Jack is telling me about one of his first days out of the hospital when he went exploring in his backyard with his little sister, Astrid glides up to our table and plops two shakes down in front of us without saying a word. She's flipped her tray in her hand and is about to glide off when I notice that, instead of having a chocolate shake, I have a strawberry. I'm about to announce this to her, but she's already zoomed off before I can.

"Didn't you order a chocolate shake?" Jack points out, taking a quick sip from his own.

"Yeeeeeah, but I have a feeling she mixed them up on purpose," I tell him with a smile. "The jokes on her though. I actually secretly wanted strawberry."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Sure you did."

.

* * *

.

I'm standing in the middle of the woods, my bike beside me as I feel the gentle breeze brush against my cheeks and nose. Nothing around me looks familiar, but at the same time, it does. I know this feeling should bother me, but it don't let it. I look up and trees on top of trees form a canopy over me, the sun only barely able to peek through the quivering leaves. Tangled ribbons of roots emerge from the dirt ground around my feet, wrapping around each other like they're all attempting to strangle the other.

I feel at peace here. I don't know why, but I do.

"Hey! Jack!"

I turn to see Hiccup, sitting amply on his bike's seat, waving me over, his auburn hair looking more red than brown because of the odd sunlight here. Without hesitation, I jump on my bike and start pedaling towards him. I feel like I should be having a hard time as I move, with all these roots in my way, but I glide across the ground as if they're not even there. Hiccup gets on his bike as I move towards him, and he starts pedaling away from me, a toothy grin showing off the gap between his front teeth on his face.

"Wait up, Hic!" I yell, twisting my handlebars every which way in order to avoid the trees surrounding me. "You're going too fast! I can't keep up!"

"You're gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna keep up then!" he yells back at me. Despite that I can see him through the trunks, his hair standing out like a sore thumb, his voice sounds like he's miles off, giving off a feeling of an echo. I don't like the feeling this gives me, so I pedal faster, desperately hoping to catch up with him.

This goes on for what feels like hours, the two of us riding through the woods together, trees and bushes, animals and rocks zooming past us as we go. Half of me feels irritated, because I want to catch up with Hiccup, but the other half feels serene. The landscape passing me by is so beautiful, even if I'm not able to really dwell on any of it like I want to.

All of the sudden I feel this pang in the back of my head. Reaching up and touching my hair, I almost lose control of the bike and crash into a tree, but I'm somehow able to catch myself.

"You alright back there?" I hear Hiccup's distance voice ask. I look around, trying to find his familiar form, but I can't through all the nature.

"Where are you?" I yell back at him.

"Behind you."

I look back and there he is, giving me that same grin from before as he tails my back wheel.

"Wanna race?" he asks, and I nod, not finding anything weird with the fact that he somehow moved from miles and miles ahead of me to suddenly behind me. "There's a river up there," he tells me, lining up his front tire with mine as we continue to glide through the trees. "First one there has to buy the shakes next time we go to The Ring, got it?"

I nod. "Got it."

Hiccup counts down, and at three, we both bolt forward, leaning against our handlebars to move faster than the other. To my surprise, I'm winning, somehow managing to have a good couple of feet on him. I can hear him laughing behind me, which gets me laughing to.

After what feels like only a minute, I come into a clearing, the sun almost blinding me as I pull to a stop. Placing my hand above my eyes to block the sun out, I see that I've stopped on a surface made completely of rock, small wedges looking like miniature rivers carves through them by water. Suddenly I feel something moving around my ankles, and I look down at my feet to see that, yes, I'm standing in what appears to be a river, only the water is just about an inch high. I look around, letting this fresh air and sound of water lapping against the rocks sink into my skin. The stream appears to go on forever it seems.

"This is amazing," I whisper mainly to myself, but then I remember that Hiccup's here too, probably enjoying the scenery just as I am. "Isn't this amazing, Hic?" I ask him, turning to face the break in the trees that we both entered from. Instead of coming face to face with Hiccup though, like I had expected, my eyes meet with a dark, shadowy figure, standing where Hiccup should be standing. There's no face on the form, no resemblance to a human at all besides two arms sprouting out if it's sides.

"W-who are you?" I somehow manage to say, feeling the words escaping my throat like wind. "Where's Hiccup?"

The figure doesn't say a word, but begins moving slowly towards me. As I look past it, I see, near the entrance to the woods, a familiar body speckled with brown spots, motionless green eyes staring back at me. The intense feeling in the back of my head presents itself again as I register what I'm seeing, feeling like knives are being stabbed into my scalp. I fight back a scream, but I can feel it burning in my throat as the figure moves closer to me, raising one of its hands out towards me, it's long, clawed fingers beckoning me towards it.

I'm about to yell at it to stay back when my vision goes black only for a moment. Then, suddenly, I'm underwater, all sounds around me cancelled out. In the distance - above the water it seems - I hear a scream; one long, shrill scream that makes the back of my head feel like it's being torn in two.

I open my eyes, dismissing the darkness around me, and I'm lying in my bed, panting harder than I've ever panted before.

"Jack?"

My neck snaps in the direction of the voice, and I see Emma, dressed in her purple nightgown, standing beside me in my bed, her long, brown hair sticking out on its own in some places. Her eyes are large and wide awake as she stares down at me, like she just witnessed me doing something she never wanted to see.

"W… wha's goin' on," I slur out, pressing my hands against my eyelids to stop the stinging. "Why are… where is…"

"Shhh, Jack. It's okay, it's okay," Emma soothes me, taking a seat on the bed beside me and pulling her small fingers through my hair. "It was just a silly nightmare, that's all. You're okay now."

"A… a what?" I ask, looking up at her through the darkness.

"A nightmare," she explains. "It's… it's like a dream. Only… only it's bad."

I nod my head up at her, the word suddenly registering in my mind. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what it was. It was… it was a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Without my knowledge, my head shakes on its own, and I decide that not talking about it is probably for the better. The last thing I want to do right now is have to relive what I just had to experience, be it real or not.

"Do you want me to stay in here with you?" Emma asks quietly. When I nod, she removes her fingers from my hair and wiggles herself into the bed beside me, scooting me over so she can fit. I move, pulling the covers around her small body.

"Will I have another nightmare if I go back to sleep?" I ask her once she's all settled in.

Her tiny shoulders move under my blanket. "Maybe. Maybe not. You may have another, but you could also have a good dream. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it, Jack? Sometimes talking about it helps them go away."

I contemplate this notion for a moment, but I decide to shake my head again at her request. "Not tonight," I tell her through a small yawn. "I just… I don't want to think about it."

Emma nods in understanding, and snuggles in close to me, curling her legs up close to mine beside her. As I feel her finger at my loose shirt, I wrap my arms around her small form, pulling her into me, and close my eyes.

"Thank you for being here," I whisper into her hair.

"Anything for you, Jack," I hear her whisper into my chest without missing a beat. I make sure she can feel my smile through her hair, so she can know how much those sweet words mean to me.

As Emma and I eventually doze off in each other's arms, I fall back into a deep sleep. Only, this time I don't have a nightmare, nor do I have a dream. Instead, all I see is darkness around me, but it's not the bad kind of darkness; it's the comforting kind.


	8. Blood

**Surprise! Guess who found time to update earlier than they expected?**

Ah man, this chapter was definitely interesting to write. Not gonna say anything about it though, since I don't want to ruin it. Just... the much anticipated race finally arrives and SHIT GETS REAL.

OH, and a new character is introduced. They're from the HTTYD book series, which I hate to admit, I haven't read yet (don't worry though, I ordered them and they'll be arriving soon!). I love this certain character too much though - from what I've read and heard about them - and just couldn't help but put them in this story. So sorry if they seem a little... out of character? I've never read the books, like I said before, so they might be off a bit. I dunno. Sorry if they are though...

Anyways! Thanks for all the lovely reviews and for reading and, blah blah blah, you guys already know this deal. :)

.

* * *

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On Saturday morning, I let myself sleep in, since the race isn't until noon. Toothless also decides to grace me with no morning attack, therefore allowing me to stay in bed. At around ten though, a wave of energy overcomes me as I open my eyes, and I instantly know it's time to get up.

"Big day today, bud," I tell Toothless, who's now made his way on to my chest and is peering down at me with large, green eyes.

He reaches out his small, black paw and pats me gently on the nose, letting out a soft meow.

"Tell me 'bout it."

I follow my everyday routine: get up, hobble into bathroom, shower, put on prosthetic, and dress for the day. The entire time, Toothless follows me around like a tiny, annoying shadow, close to my heels, meowing at me to get a move on. I make the motion to kick him, which causes him to stop and flinch, then playfully attack my foot when he sees I mean no harm.

My dad's watching television as I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, my stomach growling with a just now appearing hunger I hadn't been aware of while I was upstairs.

"Might not want to eat a big breakfast," he warns me as I open the fridge and bend down to scan my options. "Don't want to spoil your lunch, now do you?"

"That's probably a good idea," I say, closing the fridge and making a beeline for the pantry, where I know we keep the _Pop Tarts._

"Speaking of lunch," I hear my dad continue, turning down the volume to the television. "I hope you don't have any plans for today, son, because I made some reservations somewhere for lunch."

I instantly stop peeling off the wrapper of my breakfast, letting his words sink in and compute in my brain. As I turn slowly to look at him, I register that, yes, I actually_ do_ have plans for today. Really, really, super, extremely important plans that is.

"Do we, uh… _have _to do that today?" I ask him, walking up to the counter separating the kitchen from the living room, setting my _Pop Tart_ down.

I can tell my dad was not expecting this type of answer from me at all; he has the same dumbfounded expression on that I was probably wearing only moments ago on hearing that he had made plans in the first place. He blinks a couple of time, clears his throat, and says, "Well, yes. I mean, we have to do it today. I made reservations and… we're not going alone, you know."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Bertha and her daughter and joining us. Her brother, Erik, he owns the restaurant, so we're getting a nice, little discount."

"Why Bertha?" I ask, even though I think I already know the answer.

"Well… she's, uh… she's kind of my new… new girlfriend. Yeah."

"Ahhhhhh, Daaaaaad," I go, reaching out and scratching the back of my neck. For a second there, I actually thought getting out of this lunch would be easy, but now that I know that this Bertha woman is my dad's girlfriend_ -_ when did _that_ even happen anyways? - I see that the odds of me sitting this one out are definitely not in my favor. "This really isn't a good time. I mean… this… this _thing_ I have planned today. It's really, really important that I go."

"And may as I ask what this _thing_ is?"

"Um… it's just a, uh… a race."

"A… bike race?"

I nod. Now there's physically no way I can go, now that he knows it has to do with bikes. Great.

"Hiccup," I hear my dad go on with a sigh. "I… I'm sorry, but you're going to have to miss it. This is very important to us. Bertha and I have been planning this for the past week."

"Well, you could've at least _told_ me about it," I tell him with an edge in my tone. Despite the fact that telling me wouldn't have change anything, since the date for the race had been set in stone almost two weeks ago, it still would've been nice to have known about it in advance.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," my dad defends himself, scratching the back of his thick neck. "Her daughter's ten, so I thought you two would get along nicely too."

"Wait. She's _ten_? And you thought- Dad. You _are_ aware that I'm, like, fifteen now… right?"

"Of course I'm aware! How does that change anything?"

"Well, ten and fifteen are quite some distance apart from each other, aren't they? Especially when it comes to, oh, I dunno, _ages._"

"I… guess so."

"But, Dad, I seriously need to go to this race," I change the topic to more important matters; having to deal with a ten-year-old girl isn't the biggest problem for me right now. "I mean, I promised someone I would be there for moral support, y'know? I can't let them down. We've been working really, really hard with training and I want to see that-"

"Training?" my dad interrupts me.

"Yeah," I go with a shrug, looking at the microwave sitting in the corner. I completely forgot to mention to my dad about Jack's and my little deal, but then again, I guess he never really showed any interest, did he. "I've been training this guy. You know, to bike and stuff."

"So _that's _where you've been every day?"

I nod. "His name's Jack Overland. He's, uh… he's a friend… of mine… now."

At hearing this, I notice my dad's eyebrows rise well into his forehead. I try not to look annoyed that the idea of me having a friend is so surprising to him.

"Well, it's nice to hear you've made a new friend, son," he tells me with an approving nod, "but you're going to have to tell him that you're busy today. I'm sorry, but I can't let Bertha down like this. She's really looking forward to sitting down and getting to know you."

"But, Daaad," I start, but he swiftly stops me before I can go on.

"You're going to this lunch, Hiccup. End of discussion." He stands up, flipping off the television, and starts heading towards his bedroom, I assume to get ready for the day.

"Dad, I really, _really-_"

"Hiccup. No. We're done talking about this anymore."

"But, Dad. You don't-"

"Do I really have to repeat myself? The answer's no. Now eat your breakfast."

"But this is really important to me!"

"Go eat your breakfast. We'll be leaving in an hour or so."

"Do you even _hear_ me?" I say, but he's already closed the door behind him.

I forget my breakfast sitting on the counter, since the hunger I had been feeling earlier has completely vanished. Toothless can sense that something's wrong as I enter my room, weaving between my legs and glancing up at me as I fight the urge to slam my door.

"This is a mess," I tell him, stroking his arched back. "Jack's gonna be so… ugh. And _Astrid._ Oh man, she's never going to let me hear the end of this… dang it." I walk over and grab my phone sitting on my nightstand, Toothless now stationed on my bed. Scrolling through my contacts until I come upon the new number I had only added a few days ago, I press the call button and peer down at Toothless, whispering, "Here we go," and he meows up at me for reassurance.

The phone only rings twice before I hear a woman's voice answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is one of Jack's friends," I tell her simply, trying to get the anger and frustration that I was earlier feeling out of my voice. "I was wondering I could speak to him."

"Oh. What did you say your name was?"

"My name's Jo-"

"Thanks, Mother!" I hear a familiar voice pipe in before I can finish, making me jump a little. "I can take it from here!"

The woman, who is apparently Jack's mom, sounds a little shocked by her son's abrupt entrance into the conversation, and she even begins to say something back, like she's seriously about to start scolding him right there on the phone with me listening. Every time she starts though, Jack cuts her off, and after her last attempt fails, she silently hangs up the phone, leaving Jack and me on the line alone.

"Sorry about her," Jack goes with a nervous laugh. "She's really, uh… well, you know."

"Have you not told your parents about me, Jack?" I ask him, pretending to sound offended by this. "She seemed rather shocked to hear you had a friend."

"First off, your voice sounds really different on the phone than it does in real life. And two, pfft, _no_. She never asks about my friends, so I never tell her about them."

"Hm. Seems fair enough. Though I do feel somewhat insulted that I'm not important enough to you for your parents to know about my existence. For shame, Mister Overland. For shame."

"Oh, boo hoo," Jack laughs. "Why are you calling anyways? The race is in, like, an hour and a half, and I wanted to go out and practice some before- oh! You think you can come over and we can bike to this racing place together, maybe race some for practice?"

As the words of the race only about an hour away are mentioned, I feel something drop to the pit of my stomach and then start to make its way back up my esophagus. This is the part of this conversation that I wasn't looking forward to, but I guess I have to tell him, since he's going to find out anyways.

"Yeah, uh… about that…" I go. "I have some… really not so awesome news."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. Um… so apparently my dad decided to make lunch plans without telling me for today? And, well… they kiiiiiiiiinda occur _during_ the race, sooooo…"

"Sooooo… you're not going to be able to make it to the race?"

I pause, hearing the obvious pain in his voice that I can tell he's trying to his best abilities to mask - and failing miserably. Even though I can't see his face, I know what he must be thinking: we worked so hard for so many hours at making him a good biker, and now I won't even be there to see him race.

"I'm really, really sorry, Jack," I tell him, pacing from my bathroom door to my desk on the other side of my room, Toothless watching me with curiosity. "Trust me, I'd _much_ rather be there cheering you on than at this stupid lunch thing."

"Who's it with? The lunch."

"My dad's new girlfriend or whatever and her daughter."

"Oh."

"Jack. _Gods_, I'm sorry. I know-"

"No, Hiccup, stop," Jack tells me with a sigh. "I… it's okay, really. I understand. You can't do anything about it, and… and that's okay. I'll just get Fish to take me."

"Okay," I breathe, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead in anguish at this whole awful situation. "Just… you're gonna do great, you know that? You really are."

"You think?" I can tell by the uncertainty in his voice that he's beginning to doubt himself, and I really hope it isn't all because of the unfortunate news I just told him.

"Duh, of course, you idiot," I tell him with a laugh, earning a chuckled from his side of the line.

"But what if I get hurt? Lout's a lot better of a biker than me, so…"

Astrid's threat from a couple of days ago echoes in my mind as he says this, but I dismiss them before I can begin to dwell on them too much. "You're gonna be fine. There's no way you're gonna get hurt, 'kay?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I promise. You'll be fine. I mean, you've practiced too hard for too long not to win this thing. Go show Lout that he can't just pick a fight with anyone, alright?"

He lets out a more heartfelt laugh. "Yeah, yeah, Okay."

We talk for a while after that, me trying to lighten his obviously downcast mood, but after about half an hour, my dad knocks on my door, telling me that we're going to be heading out soon. I tell Jack that I need to get off, and he replies by telling me that he should probably call Fish to get a ride anyways, so it's all good. Wishing him good luck, I can tell that maybe some of his confidence has been restored, but not all of it. I just hope that, by some miracle, something - _anything -_ will happen in order for him to feel better about his himself and his racing.

As my dad and I make our way into town to this restaurant ten minutes after hanging up with Jack, I don't say one word to him. My silence towards him doesn't really matter though, considering he doesn't make any attempt to talk to me either.

The restaurant that we arrive at is this little mom-and-pop kind of place, giving off that real homemade kind of vibe that I normally find appealing, only I _really_ don't want to be here. As my dad tells the host standing by the door that we're here with Bertha Bog, I examine the crowded and almost overwhelming interior; each of the four walls are coated with random street and various other signs, vintage and newer photographs of all sizes of random people, those glowing banners for beers and other drinks, and other such things. Booths line the walls, and small, round tables litter the center of the large room, their surfaces covered with a sheet of glass to protect postcards and photographs stored underneath them.

I recognize Bertha right away as our host walks us to a booth near one of the back corners, further away from the kitchen. Across the table from her though sits an unfamiliar, small head of bright blonde hair, appearing to have not been tamed this morning in the slightest. As we get closer and Bertha greets us with a sweet, "There you two are!", I notice that the hair has two hands that are furiously scribbling away on a piece of paper.

"Stoick, Hiccup," Bertha tells us after we've taken our seat, "this is my daughter, Cami."

The small girl's head pops up at the sound of her name, and she quickly turns towards me, showing off a pair of pale, baby blue eyes, faint freckles spotting her cheeks. After a moment, she shoves the piece of paper she had been drawing on towards me, and I look down at it to see a bunch of scribbles done with green and red crayon that make the outline of an odd looking animal-like thing.

"It's a dragon," Cami tells me, sounding like this should be obvious. She turns and grabs another piece of paper out from a small, turquoise colored bag positioned in the seat beside her.

"Cami likes dragons," Bertha tells me with a laugh. "They're her favorite animal." I attempt to smile back, but I know I do an awful job at it. As much as I want to like this woman - mostly for my dad's sake - I just can't get myself to do it. She truly seems like a nice person that I would normally like to have a conversation with, but there's just this wall blocking me from being able to get passed the idea that she's now my dad's _girlfriend._

Cami begins to scribble furiously on another sheet of blank paper with a purple and yellow crayon at the same time as our parents go into their own separate conversation, appearing to be talking about the menu and what to order. Cami turns towards me all of the sudden and asks, "Do you like games?"

"Uh…" is all I can say in response.

"Wanna play a game?"

"Uh…"

"You say uh a lot. Is that your name? Can I call you Uh?"

"My name isn't Uh."

She narrows her eyes, leaning towards me. "Then what is it?"

"Hiccup."

"Pfft. _That's_ a stupid name."

I let out a sigh. This girl can't seriously be ten, can she? I've only been talking with her for not even a minute now, and I feel like I'm exchanging words with a preschooler.

The waiter finally arrives, and we all order what Bertha suggests, since she knows what's best on the menu. I glance at said menu as she places our orders, and I discover that there really isn't that much of variety here. At realizing this, I begin to wish I had made an escape for Jack's house when I had to chance, skipping out on this lunch entirely.

After the waiter leaves and our parents start talking about what sounds like business talk, Cami turns back towards me, shoving another scribbled picture of what I assume is a dragon my way.

"Wanna play a game?"

"Depends," I tell her. "What kinda game are we talkin' about here?"

"Depends," she throws back at me. "What kinda games are you into?"

I pause, thinking over her question. By the looks of things, Bertha and my dad are probably going to do most of the talking, and it appears that that talking is only going to be between each other. I decide, for my own sanity, that playing along with this weird, little girl is probably my only option as to keeping myself occupied for the remainder of lunch. I decide to embrace this.

"I like thinking games," I tell her.

She nods and turns towards her backpack again, sticking her small hands into it and shuffling things around. After a moment, she pulls out two sheets of crumbled up paper and hands one to me from under the table, looking like she's trying to be all secretive about it. Not going to lie, but this manages to get a smile out of me.

"What's this?" I ask, putting the paper in my lap and glancing down at it.

"Scavenger hunt," Cami tells me. "When my mom takes your dad to go meet my Uncle Erik after they're done eating, we start, okay?"

I'm a little taken aback by these sudden instructions, but I nod nevertheless.

Our food arrives within minutes of Cami's and my agreement, and as I try to eat my generic hamburger, Bertha decides it's a good time to bombard me with questions about myself and everything that can possibly branch off of that. I answer them to my best ability between bites, only doing it to humor my dad, who gives me an unapproved look when I tell her the story of the one time when I changed my name in his phone to God, and when I heard him swear from in the other room, I texted him _'I HEARD THAT'_, which confused and frightened him beyond belief. My dad doesn't find this quite as humorous as Bertha does, who laughs so hard, she nearly chokes, but oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Once all the food on our plates have vanished for the most part - Cami refuses to eat her green beans her mom ordered her - Bertha takes my dad into the backroom of the restaurant to meet her brother, just like Cami had told me she would. Once the door closes behind them, the small girl turns, locking eyes with me, and says, "Ready?"

"One question," I say back, pulling out the sheet of paper she had given me earlier.

She lets out a heavy sigh as I hear her crawling under the table and to the opposite side as me, where our parents had been seated only moments ago. "What's your question, Burp?"

"Hiccup."

"_Whatever_."

"Where am I expected to find a potato?" I ask, pointing out the word on the piece of paper.

"We're in a restaurant that has a couple of dishes that involve potatoes," she tells me simply. "It really isn't that hard to find one. Someone's bound to order one today."

"What exactly are you saying…?"

"What do you _think_ I'm saying?"

I stare at her for a moment, letting what she's told me sink in. I suppose it's safe to say that I'm about to participate in the strangest scavenger hunt ever.

"Ready _now?_" Cami asks again, not even trying to hide her impatience. I nod in return, and before I know it, she does a quick count down and, upon hitting three, she's off, disappearing around the corner into some unknown territory of the building.

Well. This is should be interesting.

Most of the objects on the list are pretty simple to find, though they do prove to have their own complications. Number one, written in which I guess is Cami's nearly illegible handwriting, is a yellow gumball. I recall a gumball machine sitting in the front of the restaurant, so I assume this gumball is going to be easy to obtain. I'm proven wrong however when I put a quarter in the slot and receive a blue instead of a yellow. Another quarter gets me a green, and another a red. I end up having to spend $3.25 in quarters, and even get a few strange stares from onlookers as I stuff my short's pockets with gumballs, just to get the yellow one I need.

On finding the yellow gumball, a box of cheap crayons without a green inside, a bent fork, and a sugar packet opened but not used, I come to the point where I'm told to retrieve a potato, and it's then that I decide it's probably about time to call it quits on this whole scavenger hunt deal.

I wander back to our table, holding the items I was able to find in my hands. Once I get there, I see that Bertha has found her way back to her seat, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she stares out the window, a vacant look on her face. She must see me out of the corner of her eye though, because she turns and lets out a smile and, at seeing all the odd objects in my hands, says, "Oh dear. Has Cam got you on one of her scavenger hunts?"

I nod, taking a seat on the opposite side of the booth, putting the objects down on the table.

"Sorry about that. She had this thing with… well, I don't really know how to put it. She's a bit of an oddball, isn't she?"

I nod again, allowing a smile to slip. She's an oddball alright, to say the least.

"Please tell me you didn't find the potato."

I shake my head. "I decided to quit when I reached that one."

"Well, thank the gods for that."

"Where's my dad?" I ask after a second pause.

"Still in the back," she tells me, resting her hands out on the table now. "Him and my brother are getting along a lot better than I expected."

"That's good."

"Yes, it is."

Another moment of silence comes upon us, and I'm forced to look in the opposite direction of Bertha, studying some of the other fellow diners eating their lunches. I get this weird feeling in my chest, like I know I should be talking to her, but I can't get my mind to think of anything to say, even if it my mouth would allow me to say them to begin with.

Bertha's the one that breaks the silence in the end.

"Hiccup," she goes quietly. When I look over at her, she's looking right back at me, her kind, blue eyes that are identical to her daughter's making it to where I can't pull away. "Listen. Your father… he… he told me about what happened… with your mother."

I feel the bones in my back and shoulders stiffen. It's then that I'm able to wrench my eyes off of her and retreat them down at my own hands. If I had known that this unexpected conversation would be occurring today with this woman, I would've made a much better effort at sneaking out to Jack's to go to the race instead. The last thing I want to talk about with not only Bertha, but with _anyone_ for that matter, is the subject of my mom.

"I know that, well… he hasn't gone out and seen other women since it happened," she continues, "and that's completely understandable. But now that he's… well, now that _we're_ together-"

The feeling moves into my chest, making it a bit of a challenge to breathe.

"-I feel like I need to make one thing clear with you." She doesn't say anything after that, so I look up, to see if she's trailed off or something. When our eyes meet again, she goes on. "I know that you had a very… _very _strong bond with your mother, and that her death had a very… well, a very large impact on you. Right?"

I want to speak, I really do, but it feels like there's a wad of something stuck in the back of my throat, making me unable to say a word. I weakly nod my head instead.

"But I want you to know… well, that I'm not here to try and replace her. Okay? I just… I don't want the loss of your mother to get in the way of any type of relationship we could have. I've heard only good things about you from your father, and I-"

"Hey! Cheater!"

Bertha's monologue is cut short at Cami arriving back at our table, her arms filled with each object I assume I was supposed to find. She's giving me a death glare, her blue eyes narrowed as she places all of her treasures in front of me, mixing in with mine.

"Camille Bog, I was talking. It's rude to-" Bertha begins to lecture her daughter, but Cami doesn't appear to hear her over her own frustration with me.

"You couldn't have finished finding everything before me!" she goes, her hands on her hips as she continues to glare. "No one's _ever_ beat me at one of my own games!"

"Don't sweat it, kid," I tell her, finding the words in me to speak again. "I only got to number five on the list. I forfeit. You win." I toss her the yellow gumball I had spent too much money on, and she catches it rather easily in her small hand.

At the news of me giving me, a large, toothy smile spread across the young girl's face as she looks up from the gumball. She jumps up and down at bit on her toes, then pushes me over in the booth seat so she can squeeze in beside me, popping the gumball into her mouth. "I bet you didn't have enough guts to find the potato!" she sings through smacks. "No one _ever_ has enough guts to find it but me!"

Laughing at this, I ask her where she found hers, and as Cami goes into great detail about her adventure in the back kitchen against the chefs, I notice Bertha staring out the window again, her chin back in her palm, that vacant expression on.

I want to feel sorry for not responding to her earlier when she made such an effort to talk to me. I want to feel sorry for making it seem like I have this grudge against her simply because she's my dad's new girlfriend who claims she won't try and replace my mom.

But if I were to admit to that, then I'd be lying.

.

* * *

.

Fish is the one that drives me to the racing grounds after my parents backs are turned and I'm able to sneak out without their knowing. I discover upon arriving that this said racing ground is just an abandoned amusement part, only it's smaller than the ones that I read about in Emma's books back home. As we pull into the desolate parking lot, a few other vehicles spotting the vast space - people here to watch the race, I assume - I notice the faded colors of long forgotten tents and unfinished rides.

"They began building it back in, like, the mid 1900's," Fish tells me as we get out of his car. "It never actually opened or anything. Apparently the budget for the rides weren't enough to make them safe enough to ride, so they ended up just scraping the entire project."

"That's sad," I say as I unhitch my bike from the back of his car. I do it rather effortlessly, which I'm proud of, since I had been practicing on mastering this skin, as lame as that may sound. I guess I just didn't want to embarrass myself when the time came for me to do it around other people. "Berk could use a carnival like this. You know, so people can have something fun to do every now and then."

Fish shrugs as he takes my gear out from the backseat, locking the car after he shuts the door. "Well, in a way, we _are_ making the most of it. We use it to race, y'know."

There's something beautiful, yet haunting about the deserted carnival ground. After Fish and I crawl through the opening in the rusted, locked gate, I find ourselves standing at the very start of a long, dirt pathway, booths and stalls, some caving in on themselves, surrounding us on both sides. Some of the booths I can tell were meant for games; I can see their beaten targets with their faded red and white paint hanging on walls inside, stout stands without fake guns attached where a child would stand to shoot and try and win a prize. In the distance, I'm able to see what I assume was supposed to be a ferris wheel, only the wheel part never quite made it on to its stand. A wooden roller coaster, its beams bent and broken in some places, glides over tents and booths, abruptly coming to an end, showing that it had never been finished.

Once we've walked the entirety of the "main street", we come to a small roundabout, several other paths branching off from the center, which holds a worn looking merry-go-round. I notice once we move pass it that the paint's chipped from the faces of honestly horrifying looking animals, and some of them haven't seen a coat of paint to begin with.

Looking down at my feet, away from the creepy children's ride, I see a white arrow, spray painted into the gravel. I point this out to Fish, and he tells me, "That's a part of the race. They tell you where you gotta go."

"They're all over the place then?"

"Yep. We're actually almost to the starting line, I think."

We turn the corner around an out-of-order fortune telling machine, and I see this said starting line. It isn't at all like I had been expecting; the same spray paint that made up the arrow from before makes up a thick line, spanning across the ground a good ten yards. Other than that, there really isn't much there. A good dozen of people are waiting around though, only one with a bike, who I recognize as Lout instantly. As we approach, I see that the damage I had done to his precious bike two weeks ago has completely vanished, like they had never even happened.

"Fish! Over here!" I hear someone yell from the pack of people. As Fish waves and starts ushering me towards the voice, I see that it's that Astrid girl that Hiccup introduced me to a couple of days ago. Her blonde hair, pulled back into a thick braid, flies behind her as she meets us halfway.

"Hey, Astrid!" Fish goes. "How's the competition lookin' today?"

Astrid rolls her blue eyes, brushing her bangs out of the way. "Do I _really_ have to answer that? I mean, this _is_ Lout we're talkin' about here. He's all the competition this kid's gonna need." She turns her head slightly in my direction and gives me a quick smile, which I return. She then looks around, a confused expression making its way on to her face, and asks us, "Where's Hiccup?"

"He couldn't make it today," I explain to her quickly. "Something popped up."

She rolls her eyes again. "Of_ course_ something popped up."

Before I can defend him, some other girl with a long face and even longer blonde hair standing with everyone else calls out her name. Astrid starts heading over towards the girl, waving back at us and telling me that if I need help with anything, I can just call for her.

Fish takes me up to the starting line, and as I put on my gear, he double checks my bike to make sure everything's in shape. I see Lout, wearing a very peculiar helmet with what appears to be ram horns planted on the sides, checking out his bike as well. A skinny, blonde boy that looks oddly like the blonde girl from before walks up and starts pushing a pair of elbow and knee pads towards him, but all Lout does in response is gives him a glare and swats the gear away, saying something that makes the blonde boy wander off in defeat.

"Well, everything looks a-okay to me," Fish tells me, taking my attention away from my competitor. As he puts his hands together, I notice him taking a quick glance over his shoulder, and as I peer over him, I see that he's sneaking peeks at that same blonde girl from before, who's still talking with Astrid.

"Do you want to go talk with them?" I ask.

He looks shocked by my question, probably not expecting me to catch on to his action. "Oh, no. Pfft, no. It's totally fine. I don't… no."

"Fish, you can go if you want," I tell him. "I have my gear on and you checked my bike. I'm good to go. Now you go and talk with your friends."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Y-you sure?"

"Fish, yes. I'm sure."

The large boy gives me a grin, thanking me and wishing me luck on the race, just in case he doesn't catch me before it starts.

"You're gonna do great, Jack!" he yells back at me as he jogs over towards the girls.

"Yeah, thanks," I say back, only he doesn't hear me. Probably for the better though, since I honestly don't feel any real power behind my words. After Hiccup had told me that he would be skipping out on the race, there's just been this hollow feeling in my chest. I know he really wanted to come and that he was being pretty much forced to go to this lunch, but I can't help but feel a little, well… abandoned.

"Nervous?"

I turn around, breaking away from my negative thoughts, to see Astrid standing in front of me.

"A little," I say truthfully.

"Good. If you weren't, I'd be concerned." She walks up , standing on the other side of my bike, and gives me a look like she's asking if it's okay for her to touch it. I nod and smile, watching her trace her long, black painted fingers over the handlebars and seat.

"This is really nice bike," she says after a moment.

"Thanks. It used to be a lot cleaner, but after all that practicing with Hiccup… well, it got kind of beaten up. Not too bad though."

Astrid doesn't say anything to this, just continues to inspect the bike in front of her. Only her expression has changed, I do notice that. Before my comment, she had had a grin on her face, like she was really appreciating checking out my bike. Now, after bringing up Hiccup and our training sessions, she appears to be thinking something over in her mind.

"You don't have to race, you know," she tells me abruptly. By the look in her eyes almost hidden behind her bangs, I can tell she seriously wants me to consider this option, but I decide not to budge. I've practiced too hard, gotten too many scars and bruises, to back away from this now.

"I know," I tell her.

"I mean, Lout's a really dirty racer. The odds of your winning are slim."

"I know."

"You may even get really, really badly hurt."

I knock my fist against my helmet, which now fits me, after a few readjustments. "That's what I have this for."

She removes her hands from my bike, placing them on her thick hips. "Did some of Hiccup's stubbornness rub off on you or something?"

I shrug. "I guess so."

Her eyes are closed and she's shaking her head, and for some reason, seeing this makes me feel a little agitated - agitated at her obvious disapproval for Hiccup's teachings and my racing, and to make it even more agitating, she isn't even trying to hide it.

"He really isn't that bad," I tell her cautiously. "I mean, yeah, he can be a little sarcastic at times, but he means well. I mean, he didn't even have to teach me how to ride, but he did." I decide to stop there with defending Hiccup, despite my want to go on, since after what I saw and was able to overhear while at The Ring the other week, I gathered that this girl has quite a fiery attitude, especially when provoked. Though I want to show her that she can't just throw insults at my friend, I don't necessarily want to push her over the edge.

"Yeah, I know," I hear her say under her breath, a lot more calmly than I had expected. "It's just… sometimes he can be a real nuisance. He's always been like that, ever since we were kids. Like, you'll tell him to do one thing, and then he'll go and do the complete opposite. It's like he lives to piss me off, y'know?"

"He likes you," I say without thinking.

She isn't looking at me as I say the words, but I can tell that she hears me.

"Not in that friend kind of way either," I go on. "Like… in a romantic kind of way."

She lets out a small sigh at this. "I know."

"Then why are you so mean to him?"

That gets her attention. As her eyes lock with mine, I can tell she wants to throw something back at me, make me look like a fool instead of her, but she can't. I know she can't. I know because what I said it true, and she knows it is too.

"I… I don't know," is all she tells me.

"That's not a really good reason."

"I know…"

A teen that looks around my age with a tattoo on his shoulder, holding what I think is called an air horn, yells that the race is about to begin. As I move my bike up to the starting line, the tattooed teen says something else about each racer getting their "token of luck".

I turn towards Astrid, still standing on the other side of my bike. "What's that?"

"It's this stupid racing tradition that some idiot made up years ago," she tells me, rolling her eyes. "Each racer has to find a person of the opposite sex, and they kiss their helmet. It's supposed to bring good luck or something stupid like that."

I look over at Lout to see a girl with shiny hair the color of sand standing up on her tip toes in order to plant a kiss on his horned helmet. Her friends behind her giggle as he winks at the girl before she scampers away.

"Oh, here," I hear Astrid say, and before I can even fully turn back towards her, she's grabbing the sides of my helmet, pulling me down to her level. After hearing the faint sound of her lips making contact with my helmet, I throw her a curious look.

"I thought you said it was stupid," I point out with a smirk.

She shrugs, not making eye contact with me as a hint of pink showing up on her cheeks. "Well, you need all the luck you can get."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, just… just don't die, okay?"

The tattooed teen yells for us racers to get in position. Astrid wanders over back toward Fish and the blonde boy and girl, who I recognize as the twins I saw while at the skate park. Fish gives me a thumbs up as I mount my bike, and I try to give him a confident smile.

"When I blow the horn," the tattooed teen tells both Lout and me, showing both of us the air horn in his hand, "that signals that the race has started. One lap around the track, and whoever crosses the finish line first, wins!"

I don't know why I do it, but I make the grave mistake of looking over towards Lout. His eyes are already on me, and he's giving me this hideous smirk that makes a shiver go up my spine.

I wish Hiccup was here.

"Ready…" the tattooed teen goes.

I look forward, closing my eyes, and clearing my mind, just as Hiccup had taught me.

"Set…"

My eyes open and focus on the track laid out in front of me, a straight away and then a turn, the track disappearing behind booths and stands. I know exactly what I need to do to get ahead of Lout before we even cover thirty yards.

The piercing sound of the air horn goes off, and I kick my feet off the ground, placing them on my pedals and pushing my weight forward.

.

* * *

.

Right as my dad pulls into our driveway, a slight drizzle coming down from the graying sky, I make a beeline for my bike sitting in the garage. My dad doesn't even ask me where I'm going - just tells me to be careful with all this rain on the road - as I mount the seat and kick off, booking it down the driveway as fast as my wheels will let me.

Getting to the racing grounds take me a lot longer than I hoped. By the time I pull into the barren parking lot, the rain coming down from the sky is almost what one would call a downpour. I tread carefully over the concrete and through the gate, not wanting to make a wrong move and crash to the pavement.

Riding on the gravel is a lot easier than the parking lot, so I pick up my speed towards where I remember the starting line slash finish line is located. If they started the race at exactly noon, that means the race should be over by now, but people still have to be hanging around, since I noticed the handful of cars still sitting in the parking lot. When I reach the starting point though, there's no one in sight. I roll up quickly to the line and look over the carnival grounds, which is harder than it sounds, because of the curtain of rain.

"Jack?" I yell out to no one and, as expected, no one answers.

I push forward, rolling down the hill and on the track marked by the familiar white arrows. Looking back and forth between all the booths and rides, I see no sign of any people being here before me. Maybe they rescheduled the race because of the rain? No, Fish would've called me to fill me in on something like that. The race _had_ to have still happened - I just can't find anyone to prove that I'm right.

As I approach the base of the familiar ferris wheel, I begin to hear voices, causing me to pick up my speed. There's more than one, and some are speaking loud and faster than others, sounding panicked, which only sends a surge of panic through me.

I round the corner, and the very scene I had been praying wouldn't happen for the last two weeks is laid out in front of me.

The first thing I notice is the blood. There's a small trail of it, splotching the dirt and trailing over to the side of the track, the water pouring from the sky causing it to run through the small rocks, leaving a trail of red behind.

My knees go weak, but the shock and horror growing inside my body doesn't stop me from jumping off my bike, allowing it to fall to the ground with an echo of a crash, and running, running as fast as I can. The group of kids - maybe only three or four of them, I can't tell - standing off to the side, their eyes wide and mouths whispering words to each other that I can't hear, see me glide by them, but don't say a word to me. By getting pass them and towards what they're looking at, I can see a boy and girl, both who I recognize as Fish and Astrid instantly, crotched over a body, the name of that body I can't even think of without feeling sick to my stomach.

"What happened?" I yell through the rain as I approach the two. Fish turns quickly, his blue eyes telling me everything I need to know and wish I didn't know.

"He… he…" Fish starts, but he's unable to finish. I push pass him hurriedly, not allowing him to finish, and come face to face with the same pale, blue eyed face I had only seen, laughing and smiling, just yesterday afternoon. Blood and dirt stain his white hair mostly hidden under his helmet, several large gashes still leaking blood outlining the left side of his jaw and upper arm, right above his elbow pad. It's on seeing his eyes that I notice that he's not completely gone from us though; no, instead of lying still, his body is seizing up, then relaxing at a very fast rate, his head being held in Astrid's lap, shaking rapidly.

Astrid looks up at me, fear in her eyes. I can tell that she's asking, _begging,_ for me to tell her what to do.

"What's happening to him?" she yells up at me. "Is he… is he having a seizure or something?"

I jump down beside Jack's shaking figure, putting my equally shaking hand on his face. I call out his name, hoping that it'll snap him out of whatever he's going through, but nothing changes. He continues to seize, then relax, his eyes wide and glossy, staring up at the pouring sky.

"Who did this to him?" I ask Astrid, not being able to look down at Jack anymore.

"You did this to him!" she yells back at me, anger suddenly in her eyes. "I told you, Hiccup! I told you not to let him race against him! But did you listen? No! You _never_ listen to me!"

She doesn't even have to say his name and I know exactly who she's talking about. I ignore her lecturing me, telling me this is all my fault - which I know it is. The fear I had been feeling earlier is completely washed away with the rain now, and is replaced with nothing but pure hatred for the person responsible.

I jump up and look over towards the crowd of kids staring, and standing near the front is Lout. His eyes meet mine as soon as they land on him, and his jaw tightens.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" I scream, hurling myself in his direction.

The small group of kids on either side of him disperses as he moves backward, yelling back at me, "I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"Oh, so he just _fell of his bike _and_ skid across the ground _on his_ own?"_

"No, he… he was in my way!"

My eyes grow wide as he puts his hands up to I guess protect himself against me, a wary and frightened look in his eyes. I wonder why he's scared, since I know I can't look _that _threatening to him, no way. As I connect the dots though using what he said, I feel my hands curl into fists, my breathing growing so heavy, it's almost too hard to breathe.

"YOU _KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS BIKE?"_

"He was in my way!" Lout defends himself. "I wanted to win so-"

"You wanted to win so badly, that you decided to knock him off his _bike_?" As I yell each word at him, my throat throbbing, I can feel myself moving closer and closer in his direction. "Dear gods, _Lout_! That has got to be the lowest and most dirty thing I've _ever_ heard before in my _life_!"

"It's not my fault!"

"How is this _not_ your fault!? It's _all _your fault!"

"The retard shouldn't have been allowed to race!"

Something snaps in me when he says those words - referring to Jack as a retard, yeah, _that's _definitely what got me - and I, so full of rage towards him and what he did to my friend, lunge myself at him, my fist up at the ready to strike. Lout looks like he's ready to fight back, his beefy arms put out in front of him like he was probably taught to do, but before I can make contact, I feel the tight grasp of someone wrap around my body, shielding me from Lout's attack and myself.

"Control yourself, Hiccup!" I hear Fish yell through the rain.

"Let me go!" I yell up at him, pounding my fists against his arms, encasing me. "He did this! He hurt him! I promised him this wouldn't happen! I promised him he wouldn't get hurt! I _promised_!"

"Hiccup!" The voice this time is Astrid's, and the urgency in it is enough to make me forget about Lout and Fish and everyone else there. I snap my head in her direction, and she's still sitting on the soaked ground, Jack's head lying in her lap. "H-he's waking up! He's talking!" she yells at me, forgetting that this is all my fault for only a moment.

At hearing these words, I gain enough strength to force Fish to let me go; that or he lets me go on his own, seeing that my attention has been drawn away from getting revenge against Lout and towards Jack's wellbeing. I collapse beside Jack again as I hear Lout shout something through the rain and run off. To my relief, his white haired head turns slowly to look at me, his blue eyes only slits, blocking out the rain as it trickles down on to his cut up face.

"Jack! Oh gods, Jack! A-are you okay?" I say down to him, not being able to keep a smile from peeling across my face. "I'm so sorry! This is all my fault, Jack! I shouldn't… gods, I shouldn't have let you race!"

"My head hurts," is all he says back like he didn't hear a word I said. There's a confused look on his face, like he can't possibly understand how he got where he is.

"I bet it does," I laugh. I see Astrid out of the corner of my eye give me a dirty look, but I just ignore it. My friend's okay. He's alive and okay, and that's all that matters to me right now.

"Hiccup. Am I going to die?" he asks next, and I laugh again.

"Over my dead body."

I notice the deep gashes on his cheek, still leaking blood at an alarming rate. Looking up at Astrid, I say, "We need something to stop it. A towel or something. Anything."

"What about this?"

I look up and see Ree, the girl twin that follows Lout around like a puppy, only she looks different. Her slanted, blue eyes aren't narrowed like they usually are when she laughs at one of Lout's jokes as he torments me, but instead they're wide and scared as the rain runs through her drenched, blonde hair. I see that she's holding out a piece of cloth in her hand, and I don't hesitate to grab it from her.

"Is he gonna be okay?" she asks as I press the white cloth against Jack's red cheek. Astrid answers her, but I'm too focused on Jack wincing at the pain of my touch to hear what she says.

"Hiccup. I need to get home," Jack tells me in a whisper once he gets used to the cloth being pressed against his cheek. "I got to get… I got to…"

"Shh, Jack, stop talking. You need to conserve your energy."

"But I got to get home."

"Why? _Why_ do you need to get home?"

A small smile that I hadn't been expecting makes its way on to his face as he whispers, "Emma. She's… she's leaving for camp tomorrow… I got to… I got to say goodbye to her… before she leaves."


	9. Time to Pretend

**Ahh, sorry about the cliffhanger and long wait.**

This chapter just really didn't want to get written. And me getting back into the mood for playing Sims 3 nonstop certainly didn't help matters. Oh well. It's here now, the longest chapter of them all (so far).

Waaaaaaarning: there's some minor hints at Frostbite/Rainbow Snowcone here, so BE WARNED if you're not into that ship. It's nothing drastic; just kinda there, y'know.

Enjoy!

.

* * *

.

The last thing I see before allowing my eyes to close is Hiccup's face, his green eyes lined with worry, but his lips holding a reassuring smile. He lets out a laugh as I slur out my words about being home to say goodbye to Emma, and that's when I allow myself to be taken in by the darkness. I know I shouldn't give in so effortlessly, but the pain in the back of my head is throbbing to the point of nausea and it's becoming hard to ignore. Maybe if I just close my eyes - even just for a moment - the strain I'm feeling will go away.

Allowing my eyelids to droop, I hope that my friend will know what to do, will take care of me for the time I'm drifted off. As I hear Hiccup say my name one more time, followed by words I can't make out, my eyes finally shut, enveloping me in pitch black.

I'm wrong about the pain. It only worsens as I drift further and further away from consciousness. The soft touch of Astrid's thighs against my head and Hiccup's fingers on my cheek disappear and are replaced by claws tearing away at my back, my friend's kind words masked over with harsh hisses.

It's when everything's at its darkest that the hooded figure that's haunted so many of my dreams makes its appearance. Its face is nothing but a pit of dark shadows, no features present, but I can still hear it beaconing me forward, whispering words to me that I don't want to hear.

_She was better off without you._

_They'll never see you as one of them._

_It's all your fault._

_You shouldn't even try._

So much for just giving in to the darkness. Even if I do willingly allow it to take me over, this hooded figure will still slither its way into my mind, just like it does when the darkness takes me over against my will. No matter how many times I shout at it to leave me alone - even breaking out of my comfort zone and getting feet away from its cold form - the figure won't take a hint. It only continues to taunt me, it's hooked fingers waving me forward.

I decide that I've spent enough time in this living Hell. Though I may not have anyone in the outside world here to assist me, I know that I can trick myself out of this nightmare; I did it before while in the hospital, so I know I can do it again.

Blocking out the unwanted sound of the darkness' words, I think of the brightest things in my life; anything that will ward away this growing pain.

The gleam that dances across Hiccup's bike.

The glint of light that shines off of Tooth's necklace

The glow on Emma's face as she finally beats me in a game.

I know I picked the right moments to picture, because, before I know it, I'm looking up at a white, popcorn ceiling that I can only recognize as my own.

My name is Jack Overland.

I am seventeen-years-old.

I live in Berk with my parents and sister.

My best friend's name is Hiccup Haddock.

Phew. Good. I still have my memory.

"Jack?"

I turn my head slightly, blinking several times as my eyes adjust to the light above, to see my father, a grin slowly appearing on his tired face.

"He's awake, Mary! He's awake!"

The sound of footsteps heading towards my room meets my ears as my father helps me to sit up in bed, leaning my pillow against the wall to support me. I'm about to ask him what had happened when my mother bursts in, not hesitating a second as she strides up and wraps me into a hug.

I'm startled at first by her sudden and unexpected touch, but then I remember that this is what I've wanted all along. I return her hug, closing my eyes and burying my face into her shoulder.

"Oh, dear God," she sighs into my hair as I feel her fingers digging into my back. "We thought we had lost you again. We thought you were never going to wake up."

"I'm fine," I whisper, my voice hitching as the words come out. The dryness of my throat becomes apparent to me then. I wonder how long I've been out. It may have only felt like moments to me, but who _knows_ how much time has really passed.

"Well, it's good to see you can talk this time around," my father says with a laugh after my mother releases me from her firm embrace. She turns quickly towards him, giving him a sharp look, and I can't help but smile at this exchange, despite the fatigue I'm feeling.

"Whether you can talk or not, we're just happy you're alright," my mother tells me, squeezing my hand in hers. Her skin feels so coarse against mine, something I hadn't expected. "We were so worried about you, C- Jack."

"How long have I been out?" I ask. "And what _happened_ to me?"

A tense silence engulfing the entire room is followed, and I see the smiles that had previously been on my parents faces disappear. My mother doesn't seem to be able to look at me anymore as she removes her hand from mine, which only makes me want to reach out and grab it again. I had only just gotten her to open up to me; it's too earlier for her to retreat again.

"It's only been a couple of days," my father tells me slowly, looking down at the ground. "And, well… these two boys brought you to us. They said you'd been in some sort of bike accident while racing some other boy. I… I felt like I recognized the boys from somewhere though, but I couldn't put my finger on it. One was a bit bigger and the other..."

"Had a prosthetic leg?"

My father raises an eyebrow at me saying this, but nods nevertheless.

"You meet… well, _saw_ them while at The Ring a couple of weeks ago," I explain to him. "They were the two boys that asked me if I wanted to hang out."

"Which is never going to happen _ever_ again."

My head snaps in the direction of my mother, still sitting on the side of my bed. Her face looks stern and solid, so I know that the words that had come out of her mouth were meant to be heard. At realizing this, I get the feeling that something is being drained from me. Be it the tiredness or something new, whatever it is, it's overwhelming.

"W-What do you mean?" I manage to stumble out.

"I don't want you seeing those boys again, do you hear me?" she continues as she lifts herself from my bedside, still sounding as rigid as before. "Whatever happened to you, they were involved, and there's no way I'm going to allow my only son to be accompanied with such… such…"

"But they're my friends!" I shout. Judging by the way both my parents jump a little, it had been louder than I had intended.

"Jack, this is for your own safety," my father pitches in, even though I can tell the words he's saying don't seem to fit properly in his mouth.

"But they didn't hurt me!" I fight back. "Neither of them were even _there_ when I got hurt!"

"Did one of them teach you how to ride that bike though?" my mother asks.

"Huh?"

"That bike, Jack. You didn't know how to ride a bike when we first moved here, and suddenly you do. One of them had to have taught you how to ride that dreadful thing."

I'm cornered - I know it - and the frantic feeling inside of me is beginning to grow at a rapid pace. My mother is giving me this look that tells me she already knows the whole situation, but she wants me to tell her for myself. The earlier feeling of her hands pressed firmly against my back, her face buried in my hair as she made an effort to comfort me, evaporate and are replaced with rage. If I tell the truth that Hiccup taught me to ride that bike, then there's no way that she will ever allow me to see him again, and I hate her for this.

"Yes, he taught me how to ride it," I confess. "But that doesn't mean-"

"From this moment on, you're not allowed to leave this house without one of us accompanying you, do you hear me?" my mother interrupts before I can explain myself. She lets out a sigh, turns towards my father, and says loud enough for me to hear, "The kids here are so dangerous, Will. Maybe we should just homeschool him. I think it'd be for the better. He'll be-"

"You can't do that!" I yell at her. "They're my _friends_! They… they didn't do _anything_!"

"You need to get some rest," my mother says sternly back to me as she turns and walks to the threshold of my door. "You look exhausted, and yelling at me is just going to make your more tired." My father, shooting me a sympathetic look, picks himself up from the chair beside my bed and begins to follow her out of the room.

"They didn't do anything! It was _my_ fault, not theirs!"

"Rest, Jack."

"This isn't _fair_!"

They close the door behind them, the click the door leaves behind echoing against my walls.

A whole next week somehow passes without me seeing another living being besides my parents. My father is away at work most of the time, but I discover that my mother had taken to working at home just to keep an eye on me to make sure I don't try and sneak out. She delivers meals to me the first day by tray, but I never touch them, in an immature way of rebellion against her. Hunger starts to get the best of me though by the second day, so I venture downstairs on my own to solve this problem. My mother is furious at this, since she's told me several times already that she wants me to stay in bed, but she leaves me alone as I prepare my own food.

For the first time ever, I experience the emotion of boredom. Since seeing Hiccup has been marked off the list, Emma would be my first escape from this prison my parents have trapped me in. The precious girl's away at summer camp though, so there's no one to play board games and hopscotch with. The sound of her laughter makes my stomach ache terribly, and I wish for her to come back home - even just for a day - so I can ruffle her hair and poke her tiny, round nose and say goodbye and that I hope she has fun while she's away.

On the fourth day, I hear the murderous sound of a lawn mower rip through the air, and after running to my window and peering out, I see a familiar auburn head of hair going back and forth across my lawn, his big, blonde friend whacking away at the hedges. That day is the first day I try to sneak out of the house, but my mother catches me even before I can get to the stairs - curse this house's creaky floorboards! I stay in my room for the remainder of their time there, watching them through my window as they diligently work. It isn't until right before they leave though that at least one of them notices my watchful eyes; Hiccup's just finished rolling the lawn mower into the back of a white van when our eyes meet. His hand moves into the air, his fingers slightly waving in my direction as he hesitantly gives me a skittish smile. I lift my hand in response, copying his movement and grin. Then, before I can even pull my hand back down, he gets into the van behind Fish, and is gone.

I wonder if he misses me. To be completely and brutally honest, I have to admit that I don't even know where exactly I stand with him when it comes to our friendship. For all I know, I'm just that kid that he was forced to teach to ride a bike, nothing more. He could absolutely despise my guts, never want to hear my voice ever again, but he could just be hiding it as to not hurt my feelings. I know I shouldn't be thinking these things, but for some reason, the thoughts won't leave my mind. The longer I stay locked away in my room, the more I want to walk right up to him and ask him if he even likes me.

It's the day before it's been a week of solitude from the outside world that I get my first visitor. My mother calls down for me, but I don't budge from reading on my bed, propped up against the wall. If she needs to tell me something, she'll have to come up here and tell me for herself, because I've decided that if I can't leave this house, then I'm not even going to leave my room. She only calls my name once though, and then her voice is replaced by footsteps making their way up the stairs, coming towards my closed door. I prepare myself for the worse, only to get the best.

Tooth is the one that slowly opens the door as I put my book down. She's wearing this pink and white dress that makes her eyes stand out against her dark skin, and for the first time, her hair is down, barely touching her shoulders. At noticing her outfit, I become strongly aware of the fact that I'm wearing a ratty, old shirt with a ketchup stain on the collar that I wish I could magically change out of.

"The Tooth Fairy's here to collect any of your missing teeeeeeth," is her sing-song of a greeting to me. I find it rather hard to not allow a smile to peel across my face at this, which feels weird, since it's been awhile since I've smiled. "Have you lost any teeth lately, mister?"

I shake my head. "Not that I'm aware of, no."

She lets out a giggle - that I will admit is actually rather adorable. "I, uh… I heard what happened. How ya doing?"

I shrug. "I'm alright."

"You sure? I heard you took quite a nasty fall." She takes a seat on the edge of my bed, resting her hands in her lap and shooting me a knowing look. "Were you wearing your gear, like last time?"

I recall the time she almost ran me over, and let out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm still in one piece, aren't I? No need to worry."

"Then how'd you get that?" she asks, scooting towards me a little and reaching out for my cheek. I feel her delicate fingers touch the healing scars on the side of my face, causing an odd feeling to travel down my spine. She moves her hand away, and I have the urge to reach out and grab it again, but I resist.

"A helmet only protests the top of the head," I tell her, "not the face."

She laughs. "True."

I ask her how she's been doing lately, and if I didn't find this tiny girl so interesting in the first place, with her multicolored highlighted hair and tooth necklace, I think I could say I would've gotten a little weirded out by the way she just keeps on talking and talking. There's something about her voice though - the enthusiasm behind her words as she tells me about her intern job at her dad's dentist office ending and how she's now babysitting these two little kids - that makes me want to tell her to keep on talking, even if it's nonsense, just so I can hear her voice.

"And what have you been up to then?" she asks once she'd done going on about herself. "I haven't seen you around town or anything lately. Have you just been locked away in here for the past week or something?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds, really," I lie, even though it _is_ as bad as it sounds; not being able to interact with another human being, I've discover, is one of my major weaknesses. "I mean, I have tons of books to read, so it's not like I have nothing to do."

"But, I mean… have you even _seen_ anyone lately?"

"I'm seeing you right now."

She lets out a laugh, her cheeks bunching up under her pink eyes. "Besides me."

Shaking my head, I see the smile on her face fade a little.

"Has… has Hiccup not even come to see how you're doing? I mean… he's, like… your best friend… right?"

"My parents won't let me see him," I tell her quietly, breaking eye contact for the first time and looking down at my hands.

"And why's that?"

"They think he's to blame for the accident."

"Well… is he?"

I shake my head quickly, not wanting her to misjudge Hiccup. "It's my fault, really. It was stupid for me to race to begin with."

"Then why'd you do it?"

I shrug.

"Well, I honestly just think you need to get out of this house," Tooth tells me after I feel her study me for a moment. She gets up from my bed, placing her hands on his wide hips as she looks around.

"And how are we going to do that?" I ask, getting up with her. "My mother doesn't want me leaving the house because she's afraid I'm going to fall and scrap my knee or something."

Tooth doesn't reply right away, for she has this expression on that I assume means she's trying to think of a solution to my problem. After a moment of being in thought though, she snaps her fingers and turns towards me, a warm smile on her face.

"I got an idea," she tells me.

"And that idea would beeee...?"

"Remember how I said I'm babysitting those kids?"

I nod.

"Well, they can be somewhat of a handful. The older boy is nine and can take care of himself most of the time, but the girl's four and is still pretty demanding. She has to take naps and I have to make sure she eats all her lunch, especially when she doesn't like it."

"Tooth, where are you going with this?" I ask her, running my hand through my hair. As much as I love that she can just ramble on and on about something for days on end, right now really isn't the time; she's gotten me all excited about this said plan of hers, but what she's telling me right now doesn't seem at all relevant to the situation.

She puts her hands up, motioning me to be patient. "I'm getting there, I'm getting there!" she laughs. "Just bear with me a sec. So, those two kids really aren't that bad to have to deal with. But my little sister - Aly, remember? - she just got released from this summer camp thing, so she needs someone to look after her."

"Aaaand I'm assuming that someone's going to be you?"

"Right. But now that I have to look after Jamie, Sophie, _and_ her, my job's going to get tough."

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupt her as she says the familiar sounding names. "Are you babysitting the, um… oh, the Bennett kids? The ones that live down the street from here?"

A smile peels across her face. "Yeah! You know them?""

"Hiccup and I bought lemonade from them a couple of weeks back!"

"Huh. Small world."

"There's only five hundred people living in this town, Tooth."

She rolls her eyes at me, a smile on her face as she dismisses my comment. "But _anyways_. Aly's a real handful, not gonna lie. Having to look after her _and_ Sophie is going to be a real challenge."

"What are you saying?"

She puts her arms out in front of her, like she's inviting me in for a hug. An even larger grin than before makes its way on to her face as she says, "You can help me babysit!"

I honestly don't know to react to this suggestion. It's not that I don't have anything against babysitting, considering that's all I've been doing for Emma the past five weeks, up until she left. Babysitting for different kids, though? I can't even picture that. Emma and I had fallen into such a good sync of doing things, had gotten so used to each other, that looking after a couple of new kids doesn't seem like something I would be able to do.

"I don't know, Tooth…"

The small girl walks up to me after I make it obvious that I'm having second thoughts about her plan, and gently grabs my shoulder. "Jack, you need this," she tells me sternly, but still with care in her words. "You say you're okay with being locked away in here, but I know that no one would be totally okay with that. And you seem like someone who likes interacting with other people, so I know this must be hard for you, not being able to see your friends."

I look down at my feet, because I know everything she's saying is true. It's like this tiny girl standing in front of me was somehow able to look right through me and read my thoughts.

"Just give this a shot," she eggs me on. "You already know Aly, and Jamie and Sophie are _really_ good kids. You'd like Jamie. You remind me a lot of him."

I look up at her. "Really?"

She smiles back at me, removing her hand from my shoulder. "Ooooh yeah. Definitely."

"How are we alike?"

"How about you just come over tomorrow and we find out, hm?"

It's at that comment that I can't help myself from shooting a smile down at her. She's got me cornered, but I can admit that I really don't mind. No, I'm not one hundred percent sure that my mother will give in to this plan, but I know that I should at least try, for my sanity's sake mostly. Besides. If I can't hang out with Hiccup… well, at least I can hang out with Tooth, right?

.

* * *

.

I really, really, _really_ hate to admit this, but not being able to hang out with Jack every day definitely is taking its toll on me; a lot more than I had expected, anyways.

Fish, Astrid, and I had delivered an unconscious Jack to his house - Astrid stayed in the car, claiming she didn't want to have any part in this - and his parents pretty much exploded at the sight of him. Well, mostly his mom. Before either of us could even manage to get out a simple sorry, she warned us to never even think about interacting with her son ever again, and then slammed the door right in our faces.

I thought she had overreacted, not going to lie, but I don't blame her for behaving so extreme. I decided to give the Overland's a day to cool down before venturing back out to their house to see if Jack was doing better. Even after that wait though, Mrs Overland made it pretty clear to me that I wasn't welcomed anywhere near their property. From knocking politely on their front door to throwing stones at what I hoped and prayed was Jack's window, she shooed me away, her tone rising with each attempt. After she threatened to call the cops, I decided it was about time to call it quits.

To put it simply, I don't know what to do. Fish always acts like he doesn't know who I'm talking about when I bring Jack up, and Astrid won't even give me the time of day anymore because of what happened. Talking to my dad about it isn't even an option, and as awesome of a feline friend as Toothless is, a cat won't be able to give me any helpful advice. The only other person I can think of to talk to is Jack, but then that just leads us around full circle, doesn't it?

I see him for the first time that following week when Fish and I are told by Gobber that we're to take care of the Overland's yard. As Gobber drops us off, I notice that what I assume is his mom's car is stationed in the driveway, telling me that trying to find a way to contact him would be pointless. I keep my eyes on the grass as I move back and forth across the lawn, trying to ignore the fact that the very guy that I wish I could see is only fifty yards away, somewhere inside that house.

Two hours slip by pretty quickly, but that's probably only because I focus on Fish's hedge clippers snipping and my mower's motor growling for a large duration of the time I work. Before I know it, Gobber's white van is pulled up to the curb, the back doors swung open for me to stash the lawn mower back inside.

"You comin' or not, Hiccop?" Gobber asks me as he slams the van's back doors. "Got one more house to do before I can let ye go, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I sigh, slipping off my work gloves and stuffing them into my short's back pocket. As I look back up at Jack's house, I see a set of piercing blue eyes topped with a tuff of white hair peering out the top window down at me, catching me completely off guard. I wonder how long he's been sitting there, looking out of his window.

I have the feeling that Mrs Overland is going to come bounding out of the house any second now, yelling at me for even _locking eyes_ with her son, but she doesn't. Instead, I raise my hand and wave up at him, trying to get out the best attempt of a smile that I can manage. I notice through the glass him raise his hand as well and smile, only it doesn't look like it usually does. It looks weak, defeated even, like he's trying to tell me he did put up a fight, but his parents wouldn't budge.

"Hiccup! Come on!" I hear Fish yell back at me. I turn and jump into the passenger side of the van, not looking back at my trapped friend.

The next house is pretty much about the same as Jack's, only I don't have his house right there in front of me to taunt me. This makes it so much more bearable, but only but a bit. I keep thinking about what I'm going to do once I've finished working, and when the idea of going and biking with Jack pops into my head on several occasions, I feel like bashing my head against the lawn mower's handlebar.

Finally, the two hours are up, and Gobber drops me off at my house, telling me to get some rest. I'm about to tell him I plan to, when I notice the car that I can only associate with Bertha sitting in our driveway. Great. This is the _last_ thing I need to deal with right now.

Not wanting to have to encounter my dad and Bertha, I decide to slip through the backyard, hoping that opening the back door won't be too hard and that my mad dash to the stairs won't be too noticeable. My plan is foiled however when I close the back gate and hear a high voice yell, "Wow! You look really gross and sweaty!"

I turn away from the gate to see Cami standing up in my long-forgotten tree house, her normally wild, blonde hair pulled back into an even crazier pony tail.

"Good to see you too, Cami," I tell her with a sigh. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to go shower away all this sweat and sorrow." I make a beeline for the deck stairs, but I'm stopped when I see Toothless sitting on the top step. He meows up at me as I pat his head and ask him how he got out here.

"I wanted to play with him, but he's meeeeeeeeeean," Cami whines from up in the tree. "All I did was try and carry him up into this tree, but then he got all upset and started hissing at me."

"Why do you need Toothless up in the tree?" I ask her, taking a seat down next to the black cat. He crawls eagerly into my lap, rubbing his head against my chest, something he does when he wants to show me that he missed me while I was gone.

"His name's Toothless?"

"Yeah."

"But he has teeth!"

"He didn't when I got him."

"Why?"

"He was a kitten."

"Oh. Well… now that _you're_ here, you can get 'im to play with me!"

"I was actually gonna go inside and take a shower," I tell her, grabbing Toothless and beginning to get up from the steps. "I had a hard day at work, so I'm feelin' a little worn out."

"But I wanna plaaaaaaay with someone!" Cami protests, running her hands down her cheeks all dramatic like. "Mom's too busy being all gross and romantic with your dad, and that cat's all I got!"

"What exactly are you playing?" I know that there's no way that I'm going to go out there and actually play pretend with this girl, especially after having to experience that extremely weird scavenger hunt she sent me on only about a week ago. Maybe though I can give her some suggestions on keeping herself busy, something I've become a master at, since being an only child can get pretty lonely.

"Dragons!" she tells me throwing her hands into the air. "I'm the evil Dragon Knapper, and Toothless there is the last dragon I need to have captured every species of dragon known to man! But he's being a paaaaaain and not cooperating!"

"Well, I think that may be for the better," I tell her with a laugh. "I'm not so sure I _want_ you capturing all the dragons. They deserve to be free, you know. Especially Toothless here."

"Too bad! I already have all of them stashed away up here! See?" She disappears back into the tree house and returns holding a small, purple, plush dragon, its long tongue dangling lazily out of its opened mouth. "This is just one of hundreds too! I have them all up here, locked in cages!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, that's not good, is it?" I go, scratching the back of my neck.

"Nope!" she says with a toothy grin. "And what are _yoooou_ gonna do about it?"

I know I said I wouldn't fall into this trap and start playing with her, but man, I just realized that I could really use a good pretend game right about now. If I were to just go inside, shower, and try to take a nap, all I'd be able to think about is Jack not being able to see me, Astrid not wanting to talk to me, and my dad and Bertha downstairs doing only the _Gods_ know what. Playing this weird, little game with this weird, little girl seems like the better option to me at the moment. And not to mention that I never really played that many pretend games growing up, considering my complete lack of friends, and when I did, I always ended up played the character I didn't like. Maybe this is my chance to finally play a decent game of pretend with someone, even if it is a good ten years too late.

"Well, I may just have to go up there and free all those dragons," is how I respond, a smirk on my face as I take the work gloves from out of my back pocket and throw them to the ground.

"You wouldn't _dare,_" Cami hisses.

"How much you wanna bet?" I place Toothless down beside me, and he looks up, his green eyes staring as he meows and paws at my shoes. I crouch down to his level, grabbing his small snout in my hand, and ask, "You ready, bud?"

He lets out another meow, yanks his nose out of my grasp, and starts running towards the tree house at full cat speed, his black tail held high behind him. I follow suit, peeling my hat off my head and tossing it on to the deck steps.

"They're attacking! They're attacking!" Cami yells, running back into the depths of the tree house. "Prepare the fireballs!"

"The _what?"_ I ask, and I get my answer not in the form of words, but rather the form of tennis balls being launched at me from above. My arms automatically go up to protect the top of my head and face as I duck underneath the tree house, away from Cami's fire. Looking down at Toothless, standing at my feet, I yell, "Where did you she even _get_ those things?"

"They're mine!" I hear Cami sing from above. "I collect them so I can throw them at people that make me angry!"

I'm about to start climbing up the makeshift ladder installed on the side of the trunk, but then I notice that the door has been nailed shut. "No wonder this girl's got no one to play with," I say mainly to myself and Toothless meows in agreement. Crouching and placing my hand on the top of his head, I whisper, "We need to formulate a plan, bud. Got any ideas?"

The cat moves out from underneath my hand and darts to that wooden picnic table we never use anymore only a couple of yards away. I look up as Toothless lands on the top of the table and notice that if I were to stand on it, then I'd probably be able to climb into the tree house's window.

"Good idea, bud," I praise the cat with a smile, and he meows back happily.

I count to three under my breath before sprinting for the picnic table, almost tripping as my prosthetic leg manages to snag itself on a root poking out of the ground. As soon as my sneakers land on the wooden surface with a loud thud though, I hear Cami scream from above, "ATTAAAAAAACK!" and I'm being pelted at again by countless tennis balls, causing Toothless and me to have to retreat to the safety of under the tree.

"You'll never get your dragons back, Dragon Conqueror! Hahaha!" I hear Cami laugh from above.

"Who said anything about me bein' the Dragon Conqueror?" I ask, panting heavily. This is actually proving to be a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I thought I'd be able to somehow just climb into the tree house without having to really try, but man, this girl's got this place fortified.

"That's why you wanna get all these dragons back, _stupid_!" Cami tells me, like I should've already guessed this. "These are all the dragons that you already conquered, and I stole them from you, so you're trying to get them back!"

"But that sounds just as bad as what you're doing! I don't want to be a conqueror of dragons!"

"Well, then what _do_ you wanna be?"

I look down at Toothless for any suggestions, but he just cocks his head back up at me; he's probably wondering why we're not attacking the crazy, little, blonde girl anymore, since he seemed to have been really enjoying himself doing just that.

"Can I be a… I dunno. Dragon _trainer?_"

Cami doesn't say anything at first, which surprises me, since this girl always seems to have an immediate response to everything I say. Then she yells, "But where's the fun in _that_? Being a conqueror is a lot more cooler than being a stinky, old _trainer._"

"I beg to differ," I say back, bending down and grabbing some of the tennis balls lying at my feet. Talking about my role in this game, I've realized, is a pretty good distraction; may as well start preparing for my next plan of attack. "Trainers, I think, have it much better than conquerors. A conqueror is feared by the people he conquers, and I don't want the dragons to fear me like they fear you. But to be a trainer, the dragons have to trust me, which means that they probably like and respect me too. So I'd much rather be a dragon trainer over a dragon conqueror."

I hear Cami make a "pfft" sound from above, followed by her saying, "Dragon Conqueror or Dragon Trainer, no matter what you are, there's no way you're ever going to get your dragons back!"

I run out from under the tree, Toothless close at my heels, and start pelting all the tennis balls I had managed to fit in my arms up at her. She lets out a piercing shriek, yelling, "COUNTER ATTACK! BRACE YOURSELVES!" as she dunks down out of view, giving me my chance to attack her fortress with her defense lines down. Toothless, the poor little guy, is already trying to push himself up off the ground and towards the window, but he's too small of course to reach. I continue to throw the tennis balls at the tree house, making my way quickly towards the cat as I hear Cami yelling inside, "This isn't fair! This isn't fair!" Dropping the remaining tennis balls and pulling myself clumsily through the window, Toothless meowing up at me loudly in encouragement, I'm somehow able to make it into the tree house in one piece. I fall against the wooden floor with a loud thud, making Cami give out a small yelp at seeing me. Our eyes meet as I sit up on my knees, and I all I can think of doing is letting out a smirk as I move over towards where I can see she has all her stuffed dragons stashed. Before I can reach them though, the small girl pulls out what appears to be a plastic sword, pieces of duct tape wrapped around several parts of it, keeping it together.

"Prepare you meet your maker, Dragon Trainer!" she yells at me, pointing her sword in my direction.

"Now _that's_ not fair!" I say, putting my hands up as to surrender. "I didn't know we were allowed to have weapons! I would've totally already killed you if I knew that!"

"Yeah, well, too bad! I win this-" she begins, drawing closer to me with the dull point of her sword nearing my nose, but then she's cut off by the sound of who I think is Bertha calling for her, telling her it's time to head out. Now that Cami's distracted, her head turned towards the window and her sword somewhat lowered, I take this as my opportunity to win this thing once and for all. In one quick movement, I dive towards the dragons, wrap my arms around as many as I can, and before Cami can even fully turn back towards me, launch them all through the air and out the window, yelling, "Fly away my children! Be free!"

Cami runs to the window, leaning out and looking down at the stuffed dragons littering the grass. "Mooooooooooooooooooooooom!" she groans as I get up from the floor, a smile on my face, no doubt. "You distracted me from killing Hiccup, and that led to him winning the game! It's all your fault I lost now! Thanks a lot!"

I hear both my dad's and Bertha's laugh from outside, my dad's heavier and much louder than her more feminine one. "Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart," I hear Bertha say, "but we need to get going. We have plans for dinner, remember?"

Cami lets out another groan and turns back towards me, giving me a stink eye. "You win _this_ round, Dragon Trainer." I pretend to tip my hat to her, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

Once we've both successfully navigated our ways out of the tree house window and back on to the safety of the ground - when she jumped from the window and into my arms, my prosthetic almost completely gave out, which would've been a real problem for the both of us if I hadn't caught myself somehow - Bertha asked why we didn't just use the door. I explain as we clean up the stuffed dragons that Cami here had nailed it shut, guaranteeing that I wouldn't have an easy way of getting into her secure garrison.

"She nailed- oh Gods. Really?" Bertha goes, running her hand through her dark hair. "Was that _really_ necessary, Cam?" She turns towards my dad, giving him an apologetic look, but he just waves her off, a smile on his face. I notice that the smile he has on is one that I haven't seen in a really long time - as in, like, several _years_ long time.

Cami nods her head as she stuffs her last dragons into her turquoise backpack. "I had to make sure he wouldn't get in, Mom! That kinda stuff's _important_!"

Bertha laughs at this, mostly because she's probably just glad to see that my dad's not upset about her daughter nailing our tree house's door shut. "I don't doubt it is. Now come on. We gotta head out. Don't want to be late, now do we?"

My dad and I walk the two ladies to their car out front in the driveway, Toothless trailing behind us with a forgotten blue, stuffed dragon in his mouth. I take it from him, thanking him for finding it, and run to Cami as she's buckling herself into the car, our parents talking over what sound like business plans near the hood.

"Toothless found this," I say, passing it through the opened window towards her. "He musta fell into the bushes or something."

"Tell Toothless he can keep 'im," Cami tells me with a smile. "He's a really smart cat. Are you sure he isn't part human or mutant or something?"

I laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I'd know about it if he was."

"Alright. Just making sure."

Cami rolls up the window as her mother tells her it's time to head out for real this time. Before she ducks into the car though, Bertha turns towards me, smiles, and says, "Thanks for keeping her entertained, Hiccup. I know she can be quite a handful sometimes."

Not sure of how exactly to respond to that, I just shrug; my dad's standing right there, looking at me along with Bertha, and for some reason, I feel like I'm being put on spot. "It's no problem," I tell her though, trying not to look _too_ awkward just standing here with this weird, plush dragon in my hands. "I had fun."

I hear Cami knock on the window and she sticks her tongue out at me again. I do the same back.

They back out of the driveway, Bertha throwing the two of us a wave before pulling out into the street. Once they're gone, I'm about to tell my dad I'm going to head inside to take a shower, but before I can, I feel his large hand land on my shoulder, his finger squeezing a bit. He doesn't say anything when I look up at him; just gives me a small smile, lets go, and heads inside.

.

* * *

.

By some miracle, my mother agrees to letting me babysit with Tooth at the Bennett's. Tooth tries to assure me that it's because my mother really does want me to get out of the house and make some new friends, but I know my mother better than Tooth; it's probably more of because she knows that, if I have my hands full with looking after small children, then there's no way I can possibly go and see Hiccup. Though this thought angers me, I decide to let it slide, because at least I'm being allowed to leave the house for the first time in a week.

The next morning, I leave at around 8:45 so I have enough time to walk from my place to the Bennett's. Tooth's familiar car is already positioned out in the driveway when I arrive, alongside a decrepit minivan that I assume is Ms Bennett's. Tooth had told me that she would probably be home to explain "the basics" to me, whatever _that_ means.

Once I knock on the front door, the first thing I hear is the barking of a dog from somewhere inside, then a woman's voice shouting words I can't make out. After a moment, the door is opened and there stands a curvy woman with her brown hair pulled back into a loose bun, black glasses framing her caramel colored eyes. A smile appears on her face when our eyes meet.

"Ah, you must be Jack," she says, putting out her hand towards me, her other holding on to the collar of a gray and white dog, bearing its teeth at me. "I'm Ms Bennett, but please, call me Margo."

I introduce myself, extending my hand and shaking hers briefly, something I've seen my father do with other people several times when we're in town shopping for supplies. I don't know quite what to think about calling this grown woman by her first name though. I once called my father by his first name, and my mother snapped at me for it. I just assumed after that that calling someone older than myself by their first name was against the rules.

As Ms Bennett is scolding the dog to be quiet - referring to it as Abby - Tooth makes her way into the foyer, holding the hands of whom I both recognize instantly as Aly and Sophie, both of them wearing what appear to be fairy wings on their back. Both of their tiny, round faces breaks out with toothy grins when they see me, and Sophie even starts singing, "It's an alien! An alien!" as she lets go of Tooth's hand and runs up to me and grabs my hand, the wings mounted on her back flapping behind her.

"Jamie! The new babysitter's here!" Ms Bennett calls up the stairs, still holding on to the collar of the dog. "Sorry about Abby here. She isn't very fond of strangers. I'll go put her out back real fast."

Tooth gives me a questioning look as Ms Bennett leaves, and I scoop the winged, blonde girl into my arms, noticing instantly the extreme weight difference between her and Emma. "Do I even want to know why she's referring to you as an alien?"

I shake my head with a smile as Sophie wraps her pudgy arms around my neck.

A grinning Aly lets go of her older sister's hand and comes skipping up to me, showing off the two missing side teeth that are just now beginning to grow back in.

"Hiiiii, Jack!" she sings. "Remember me?"

"Oh, but of course I remember you!" I laugh. "It's little Baby Tooth!"

The young girl gives me a confused look. "Baby _what?"_

"Jack here nicknamed me Tooth, Al," Tooth explains to her little sister before I can. "I guess, because we look so much alike, he's decided to call you Baby Tooth now." She sneaks a peek up at me, sending me a smirk that I can't help but return.

"Hm… Baby Tooth…" the little, winged girl goes, seeming to be thinking over this new name I've given her very hard. "Hey! I actually kinda like that!"

"Well, good," I say back. "Because that's your new name, okay?"

"Okie-doie!"

The small, brunet boy I remember serving Hiccup and me lemonade only week prier bounds down the stairs then, his eyes that are identical to his mother's widening when they land on me. I know he remembers exactly who I am when he slides on his socks up to me and asks, "How's the part robot doin'? Has he bruised anybody's shins lately?"

"You know it," I tell him with a laugh, glad to hear that he remembers our earlier conversation from what feels like ages ago. "The kid just can't help himself when it comes to kicking people in the shin, you know."

Ms Bennett walks back into the foyer before Tooth can ask me what on earth we're talking about, the faint sound of Abby barking in the distance. "Well, Miss Ana here already knows everything about these kids that needs to be known," she tells me. "But I guess I should just tell you the basics then. In the mornings, the kids are allowed to watch one hour of television, and Jamie's only allowed one hour of video games as well."

I nod my head, wondering what exactly this thing called "video game" is.

"Try and have them eat lunch sometime between noon and one. Jamie's got diabetes, so he needs to eat something then in order to keep his blood sugar normal. Ana can explain all that to you, since I really don't have the time to."

I nod my head again, curious as to what "diabetes" are and how exactly they affect a person when it comes to eating lunch.

"And please try and keep them away from anything sugary. One, it's not good for Jamie's diabetes, and two… well, they just don't need the extra energy. So just try and stick to anything healthy. I have a whole variety of food in the fridge, and you two are welcome to use whatever you want. Oh, and once you're all done eating lunch, Sophie's also got to take her nap."

Sophie moves in my arms and hides her face in the crock of my neck. "No naps! No, no, no!" she cries, her pink wings almost hitting me in the face.

"Sophie hates taking naps," Ms Bennett tells me with a laugh, "but she needs them or she gets really grumpy and becomes almost impossible to deal with. Getting her upstairs and into bed is a challenge sometimes, but once she's tucked in, she's usually out within minutes. After that, you guys can really do anything you want to do until I get home, which will be around five or six. Only an hour of television and video games though, so maybe take them outside, play a little. Anything you two are up for."

"Do you have board games?" I decide to ask out of the blue.

Jamie nods his head. "Oh yeah! We got a whole closet full of 'em!"

"Sweet," I go, hoping they have the same games that Emma and I used to play. "I love board games."

"Well, sure, playing board games would be great," Ms Bennett tells us with a smile. She looks down quickly at her watch and grimaces. "Ah geez. I gotta head out." She picks up a black purse from the kitchen counter beside her, pulling out a shiny set of keys from within it. "If anything happens, Ana, you know how to contact me. If I'm going to be home later than usual, I'll give you two a call, okay?"

Once Ms Bennett's out the door and down the road in her car, Tooth tells me what I need to know about the care of Baby Tooth, which really isn't that much; more or less the same things as Ms Bennett had told me about her own two children, minus the nap and diabetes thing. The entire time though Tooth is filling me in on everything Ms Bennett left out for time sake, Sophie is pretty much inseparable to my neck, and I notice that Jamie keeps looking up at me, a toothy grin on his face. I haven't even spent half an hour with these kids yet and I already love them.

For the remainder of the morning, the five of us mainly just hang out in the living room area. For the first hour, Jamie shows me all his impressive video games, many of which are just fighting games where you and your opponent select a character and battle to the death. At first, I have no idea what I'm doing; I somehow get by by just smashing every button on the peculiar looking device that Jamie tells me controls my character on the screen, who I keep getting confused with his. We have to pause on several occasions so Jamie can explain to me what each button does, and even after that, I still get mixed up with which button does what. I catch Tooth, sitting on the couch playing a game called _Uno_ with her sister, sneaking me smirks and giggling when I die or mess up badly. I stick my tongue out at her at one point, and she giggles, shaking her head as she places another card down in front of her. Jamie asks me in a whisper if Tooth is my girlfriend, which I just shrug to, since I don't know what exactly a "girlfriend" is.

Once one hour of video gaming is up, Tooth unplugs the console without warning us, making Jamie groan with irritation since we were in the middle of a very intense battle. Tooth tells us to chill and that we're welcome to join in on Baby Tooth's and her _Uno _tournament, Sophie playing with her dolls as she just watches, since apparently she's too young to understand the rules. It takes some time, but Tooth, Baby Tooth, and Jamie are able to explain to me the rules of the game, since I've never played it before. Jamie wins a nice handful of rounds, claiming that _Uno_'s his favorite game and that he's the master at it, but Baby Tooth breaks his streak once when she surprises him with a unexpected skip card that she had been hoarding just to make sure he loses, allowing Tooth to take the win for herself. I don't win one round, but I really don't mind, not really. Watching the three of them argue and get so into the game makes me forget that I'm even trying to win.

When lunch rolls around, I let Tooth do the food preparing, since the only thing I know how to make are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She somehow pulls out all this healthy food from the fridge, things like carrot sticks and apple sauce, and puts them all on plastic plates as I help Sophie and Baby Tooth wash their hands in the kitchen sink. As the girls are eating, Tooth assists Jamie with what they call his "insulin pump", Jamie explaining the basics of what each button does and how he has to check it regularly to make sure his glucose levels are normal. I don't ask too many questions, mainly avoiding the obvious ones at all costs, because I don't want either of them - mostly Tooth though - giving me weird looks like Hiccup used to give me.

Once the plates are mostly cleared - we tried unquestionably hard to get Baby Tooth to finish eating the rest of her carrot sticks, even going to the extreme of making it appear like her stuffed rabbit, Bunnymund, had taken a bite out of some of them to encourage her - we begin our mission at getting Sophie upstairs and into her bed for nap time. Tooth and I spent a good five minutes chasing the young girl around the house, her wings seeming to become somewhat of an advantage to her since she was somehow able to outrun us, and then the next ten minutes are spent with us searching under every piece of furniture and behind every door to find that little stinker. Jamie was the one that ended up finding her stashed away in the incredible cramped laundry hamper upstairs, and I had to be the one to carry her screaming and kicking body into her bedroom, Tooth closing the door and holding it shut to ensure that she wouldn't escape once I put her down in her bed. Once I had her under her blankets and snuggled in with all her stuffed animals, despite wearing a frown the entire time, she eventually drifted off into a deep sleep, much to Tooth's and my relief.

Once I make it out of her room without waking her, Jamie is rushing into his room across the hall, telling me that Tooth is getting something called a "slip'n'slide" ready for us to play on outside. I'm about to ask him what he's talking about, but his bedroom door is shut before I can.

Going out into the backyard, I see Tooth blowing up some odd piece of colorful rubber with this pump device as Baby Tooth, now wearing a bright pink and green stripes bathing suit, drags the gardening hose over towards her sister.

"Oh, there you are, Jack," Tooth greets me when she looks up. Abby, who's lying down next to her, begins to get up at the sight of me, a low growl escaping her mussel, but Tooth grabs her collar and settles her down. "I totally forgot to mention yesterday that I told the kids that we could play on the slip'n'slide today. Do you mind getting your shorts wet at all?"

I shake my head. "Nah, it's not a problem. Anything I could do to help?"

Tooth gets up, letting Abby's collar go. Surprisingly, the dog continues to lie on the ground, staring up at me with narrowed eyes. "Not really, no. Just have to wait for this thing to blow up, then we can put the hose on it and start our slippin' and slidin'!"

Jamie runs out a moment later, now sporting sky blue and white checkered swim trunks and interesting goggles that look like shark eyes. As the slip'n'slide is about done getting blown up and Tooth is setting up the hose, he shows me this cool transforming robot toy he has that has wings that pop out with the touch of a button and glows in the dark.

"Slip'n'slide all set up and ready to go!" Tooth announces as the hose is turned on and water's beginning to flow across the rubbery surface. Jamie's the first to get to the head of the slide, placing his goggles over his excited eyes. Baby Tooth standing behind him does a count off, and once she hits three, he runs, launching himself on to his stomach, and the glides gracefully down the slide, letting out a loud, "Woohoooooo!" until he reaches the end, now drenched in water.

Tooth takes a seat next to me on the lawn chair, watching the two children slide one after another, making the water splash up and threaten to soak the both of us. I wonder, as I watch them, how something that appears as simple as sliding through a blanket of water could be so enjoyable, but then again, I've never slip'n'slid'd before, so what would I know.

"Come on, you two wimps!" Baby Tooth calls over to us as she gets up from her stomach, drops of water falling from her soaked hair. "We need some bigger people to do this so we can make bigger splashes off the sides!"

I look over at Tooth. "Want to?"

"Only if you'll do it."

"I'm going to do it."

"Well, I guess that means I'm gonna do it too."

Both of us get up as Jamie dives on to the slide again, causing a splash of water to fall over the side and on to the grass. I peel my shirt off of my back, and as soon as I toss it on to the lawn chair, I'm suddenly all too aware of my body and how uncomfortable this feels, not having something on to cover my torso. Jamie's been running around for the last couple of minutes though without a shirt on his back, so I guess this troublesome feeling is just me not being used to doing something like this, so I decide to shake it off.

"You can go before me, Jack!" Jamie offers, stepping back from the start of the slide, whipping his wet bangs out from his goggled eyes. As I approach him, looking over at the slide out of the corner of my eye, I feel a pang of uneasiness run through my body. "You okay?" Jamie asks me. "You look a little scared…"

I decide to be honest with the boy. "I've never done this before."

Even though those weird shark eyes are blocking out his real eyes, I can see them widen at these words. "_What_? You've never slip'n'slide'd before?"

I shake my head.

"Well… you just run at it at full speed, right? And when you're about to reach it, you just, you know, fall on your stomach. It's kinda scary the first time, but once you're going through all that water and get to the end, it's awesome and toooootally worth it!"

I focus on his last words - awesome and totally worth it - hoping repeating them in my head will give me the courage I need to run forward and slide. As I turn towards the obstacle in front of me though, my eyes land on Tooth, still standing over at the lawn chairs, wearing nothing but a one piece that looks identical to her sisters, only it's blue, green, and yellow, to match the streaks in her hair. She doesn't see me staring at her, the rate of my heart in my chest increasing for some unknown reason; she's too busy pulling her short hair back into a stub of a ponytail, her arms up over her head as she gracefully maneuvers the bright pink hairband around her wrist, down her hand, and around the thick clump of hair. I've seen girls do this before - Emma did it just like Tooth is doing it when she put her long hair back when we were playing outside together - but never has this action looked so… so… _elegant_.

"Jack?" I hear a distant voice ask. "Are you gonna go or what?"

Tooth's eyes meeting with mine is what snaps me back into reality. I look away, mentally punching myself in the face and screaming _it's not polite to stare, it's not polite to stare, IT'S NOT POLITE TO STARE_ as I nod my head down at Jamie and begin running at full speed towards the slip'n'slide. I do as Jamie instructed me and fly down on to my stomach right before my feet come in contact with the wet plastic, and the next thing I know, I'm gliding - no - _flying_ it seems, water flowing and splashing in all directions around me.

My exit isn't nearly as graceful as my entrance. Not having been told how to stop, I continue to slide on to the wet grass, my body sticking, almost making my lower half flip completely over myself. As I fall back, feeling a sharp pain on my chest, I hear someone let out a loud laugh.

"Laugh all you want, _Farry_," I say as I get up, rubbing the spot where the grass had made direct and painful contact with my chest. "Let's see you do better."

"Is that a challenge, _Overland_?" she retorts, a cute smirk on her face as she crosses her arms.

"You better believe it was."

"Then challenge accepted."

For the rest of the time we spend at the Bennett's residence, Tooth and I compete to see who's the better slip'n'slider, Baby Tooth and Jamie squeezing their turns in every once and awhile; mostly they just stand off to the side though, allowing the waves of water we create with our sliding to engulf them. Tooth eventually calls a time-out and goes inside to get Sophie up from her nap, bringing her out later in a little, orange swimsuit and matching goggles on her head. We continues to slide until Ms Bennett gets home, and even as she's making dinner inside, we continue to slide, because why go to a boring and lonely home when you're having so much fun right here?


	10. Out on the Town

** WOOOOOOOOAH, THAT WAS A ****_REALLY_**** LONG WAIT, WASN' IT?**

Ah man, guys. I'm so, so, soooo sorry for that huge hole there! This chapter was just really weird to write, not only because I fell into a major writer's block halfway into it, but also because freaking' school decided to start and take up all of my time. And what really sucks is that this chapter's actually only really a filler chapter, so that's not really fun. Trust me though, next chapter is gonna be so much better. Lots of old questions are going to be answered, and even some new questions are going to be posed.

And I hate to say that updates are probably going to start being like this a lot more often now. I feel like updates are not longer going to be every week, but probably more of every other week, maybe even three weeks at a time. I just can't make any promises though.

Despite all that, thank you all so much for all the reviews and favs and FREAKING FANART! Yeah, I got my first piece of fanart, and let me just tell you how _excited_ I was when I got it! It's the recent cover of the story, and was drawn by the lovely user, Maybell's Stories! Thank you so much once again for the great drawing, Maybell! Much appreciated!

And yes, I was indeed listening to_ Tangled_'s "Kingdom Dance" when I was writing Jack's paragraph. Sue me.

Enough about that though. Let's move on to chapter ten! Woo!

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A whole week passes by without me being able to see Jack again, and I begin to wish the grass would grow faster so I'd have an excuse to go over and mow his yard, just in hopes of seeing him peeking through his window again. The grass continues to grow at its own pace however, and I continue to not be able to see one glimpse of that white hair of his.

I quickly start falling back into my original routine before I met Jack: mow the days I have to, then go out to eat with Fish, be ignored by Astrid, go home, shower, and then try to figure out what to do with myself for the rest of the day. I begin reading the summer book I was assigned, but the most pages I'm able to read isn't even enough to get through an entire chapter. I often find my attention drifting towards the window, wondering what it would be like to be biking out there with Jack.

Not even biking, nor the mere idea of biking, can heighten my spirits. As I mow lawns, I catch myself thinking, _When_ _I get home, I'm gonna get my bike and do a few laps around the neighborhood, just to maybe feel a little better. _Every time I walk down my driveway and into the garage though, I just stare at my bike sitting on its rack, remembering the blood trickling down Jack's white skin, and I'm suddenly not so eager to go for a ride.

My dad even catches on to this. When he gets home from work, I'm often already there, working on dinner or reading in the living room. Despite the fact that I thought he'd be thrilled to see that I'm not "wasting my time biking" anymore, he seems more worried than anything. I even overhear him and Gobber talking about it one night when they think I've gone off to sleep, Gobber telling him that maybe getting me out of the house will get me out of this funk I'm in.

I'm not really that surprised when my dad tells me he set up a little day trip for us take to the traveling flea market that passes through Bashem, a tiny town even more up north than Berk. I will admit though that I _am_ surprised when he tells me that it's not just us going, but that he invited Bertha and Cami along as well, to which they accepted.

"But isn't Bashem, like… almost an hour and a half away from here?" I ask him from the living room, the book I was reading laying open in my lap and Toothless pressed up against my side, sleeping. "That's a long time to be trapped in a car with someone like Cami you know."

My dad lets out a heavy laugh from the other room, causing Toothless to stir beside me. "I know it's a long drive, especially with little Cam," I hear him say, "but that's one of the main reasons why you're coming along. To keep her company!"

I know arguing my way out of having to go would be pointless, seeing how I was unsuccessful the last time I tried to wiggle out of my dad's plans. I can't say I particularly mind this time around though. Sure, I'm not the biggest fan when it comes to my dad having a girlfriend, and sure, Cami can be a real exhausting ball of pure energy, but this is a good excuse to get me out of the house. This trip will be good for me, right?

My next day off arrives, and I find myself stuck in the back seat of my dad's car with Bertha up front and Cami bouncing around next to me, trying to get me to have a dragon battle with the two stuffed dragons she brought along. After what feels like nearly an hour of ignore her, I realize it's _actually_ only been twenty minutes, and that's when I finally give in. The only reason why we stop playing is because Cami throws her dragon up front and it lands on top of the dashboard, scaring the living daylights out of my dad. After he yells at us to stop and Bertha turns back and tells Cami to behave, we resort to playing _I Spy_. That doesn't last long either though. When I keep on picking objects that we passed by a mile or so ago, making it nearly impossible for the poor girl to guess, she attempts to jump across the back seat to tackle me. Her seatbelt restricts her from being successful at her attack though, and when she lets out a loud yelp at the strap snapping up against her, we're then told to play the oldest game in the book: the Quiet Game. One can only guess how long _that_ game went on before Cami cracked.

After what feels like a lifetime, we arrive at the outskirts of Bashem, rolling into a crowded parking spot located in a large, dirt field, the colorful tents of the flea market only walking distance away.

The four of us attempt to all stay together for the first half an hour or so, but Cami is too eager to be controlled and is running from stall to stall, not taking enough time to really dwell on what's being sold in front of her. I can tell the adults really want to remain at one booth for more than just five seconds at a time, so I volunteer on taking Cami off their hands. My dad seems relieved as Bertha says that that's really kind of me to suggest and that the little girl's all mine. I'm mainly just glad neither of them can tell that the real reason I suggested this was so I didn't have to keep on looking down at their entwined fingers.

After having to hastily keep up with Cami, who somehow manages to get out of my field of vision seven times in just five minutes, I become determined to find a stand that I _know_ she'll stay at long enough for me to catch my breath. As she's going on and on in front of me about some jewelry stall we had just stopped at, I notice out of the corner of my eye the absolute perfect solution to my problem.

"Hey, Cami," I say, grabbing her shoulder before she can run off again. "Guess what I see."

"Whaaat?" she asks, sounding annoyed as she turns her head in the direction I'm pointing. As soon as she her blue eyes grow wide and her mouth drops open though, I know she's seen what I'm talking about.

"Is that-?"

"Sure is. Wanna see-"

"Yesssss!" The tiny girls rockets out in front of me before I can even finish, running at full speed towards the booth coated head to toe with everything dragon related. I give in and allow a smile to slip as I watch her reach the booth, bouncing up and down on her toes so she can see over the counter. She may be too hyperactive for her own good a majority of the time, but man, this little girl is really beginning to grow on me.

I help her search around the stall for something she'd like, and by the time we've scanned through every shelf and table - her destroying a perfectly folded stack of shirts along the way - she's decided on not just one, but three things to buy.

"The snow globe's five dollars," I tell her, taking it from her outstretched hands and studying it. There's a small, green dragon sitting on top of the glass dome, its wings spread out wide as sparkles of all shades of blue fall over each other inside the globe.

"Is that a bargain?" she asks me. "I'll only buy it if it's a bargain."

I simply shrug my shoulders. "Looks like a bargain to me. Lemme see what else you got."

She shows me the other two items in her hands: a coal colored mug with gray and white designs painted on to it, forming a dragon breathing fire, and a white bumper sticker than says in black, bold letters _My other ride is a dragon_, a small picture of a dragon with a rider accompanying it.

"Why'd you get a bumper sticker?" I ask her. "You don't have a car."

"It's for when I _get_ one, stupid," she tells me harshly, rolling her eyes. "And the mug's for my hot chocolate. See! The mouth of the dragon is around the top, so when there's hot chocolate in it, it'll look like the smoke's coming out from the dragon's mouth. Isn't that_ cool?"_

"But it's the summer. The last thing you want to drink right now is hot chocolate."

She snatches the mug and sticker from my hands, her eye narrowed up at me. "You really know to suck all the fun outta everything, don't'cha, Burp?"

"Hiccup."

"Just tell me how much money I owe the guy!"

Twelve dollars and fifty cents later, Cami and I are back to exploring the many stalls set up for our enjoyment. I'm about to point out a booth that's fairy themed, since I assume if Cami's into dragons, she must also be into fairies, but a familiar face grabs my attention before I can.

"Fish!" I yell over the crowd, hoping he'll hear me over all the noise. Amazingly enough, he does; his head turns after just calling out his name once. When he sees me waving, he turns towards his mom standing beside him, says something to her, and then starts making his way towards me.

"What'cha doing here?" I ask once he approaches. I take note that Cami's run off to a stall just in my eyesight that appears to be selling various items made out of nothing but _Coke_ can pull tabs.

"You know the flea market only comes through, like, twice a year," Fish explains with a laugh. "My mom _loves_ the homemade jewelry people sell here though. Anyways. Are you here with your dad or something?"

"Yeeeeeeah," I go. "I overheard him and Gob talking the other night about getting me outta the house. I think pretty much forcing me to come to this was their plan."

"It's not really that bad of a plan."

"Hey, I'm not complainin'."

"I know. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you about the news! Did you hear about the-"

"Who are _you?_"

At the sound of the small voice, Fish stops talking, and the two of us both look down at my side, where the voice had come from. We instantly come face to face with Cami, wearing what I assume was made to be a belt made of pull tabs as a sash over her shoulder. Her eyes are slits, narrowed towards Fish, who's now wearing a worried look on his face as the little girl studies him.

"You're really big," Cami says. She walks up to Fish and cranes her neck back so she can look up at him properly. "Are you part giant? 'Cause that would be really cool."

"Uh… no… I'm not part giant," Fish tells her, not looking as threatened as before. "But you're right. If I were… that'd be really cool."

"What's your name?"

"Fish."

Cami lets out a laugh at this, which makes me feel a little embarrassed. It's only when you meet new people that you realize that names like Fish and Hiccup aren't names people are used to hearing.

"What kinda name is Fish?" Cami asks. "His name's Hiccups, and your name's Fish. Who am I going to meet next? _Dogsbreath_?"

"It's a nickname he got when he was a kid, Cami," I explain to her, trying to keep my voice even. Since it's been years since anyone's given Fish or me grief for our nicknames, hearing Cami do just that is honestly beginning to bug me.

"How'd you get it?"

"Well…" Fish starts, looking a little flustered now. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to answer, but he's already speaking before I can. "One of our old friends, well… dared me to eat a raw fish when we were kids… and I did."

Cami's face scrunches up as she sticks out her tongue. "Ewww! That's _grooooooooss_!"

Fish just lets out a small laugh and a smile. "Yeah. I know."

"And what about you?" She turns towards me as she speaks. "How'd _you_ get a weird name like Hiccup?"

"I thought my name was Burp," I say back.

She responds by sticking her tongue out at me.

Bending down to her level, I place my hand on her shoulder, feeling the rough texture of the pull tab sash under my fingers. "I think it's around lunch time, don't'cha think? How about you go get something for the two of us to eat. I think I saw some food stands right around that corner. Think you can handle that?"

Cami narrows her eyes at me. "Can I get whatever I want?"

"I don't see why not."

"And you _won't_ tell my mom?"

"If you don't want me to."

"Deal." She sticks out her small hand, and I shake it. The next thing I know, she's darted off, weaving her way through people towards the food stands, her crazy, blonde hair trailing after her.

As soon as she's completely out of sight, I stand up straight and hear Fish ask me, "Why'd you not want to tell her about how you got your nickname?"

I shot him an annoyed look as I begin moving in the direction Cami had run off in, wanting to keep an eye on her. "You really think she wants to hear _that_ depressing story?"

Fish opens his mouth as he follows me, but nothing comes out at first. After a couple of beats though, he lets out an uncertain "Nnnnnnnooo…?"

"No, I didn't think so either," I say back.

"Who was that girl anyways?" he asks as we round the corner. I see Cami move forward in the line for these humongous drum sticks, her money already in hand as she stares up at the menu. It's then that I realize that I've never told Fish about my dad and Bertha and Cami. Whoops…

"She's, uh…. she's my dad's girlfriend's daughter," I explain.

"Wooooah, _what_?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Fish. Not right now anyways."

Fish's expression falls a little at this, and I try not to feel too bad about it. "Oh. Uh… okay. Later then."

"Yeah. Later… now… what was the news you were gonna tell me?"

Instantly, Fish's expression lightens up, making me feel slightly better about shutting him down earlier. "Oh! Right! Well, Heather from school is throwing this party, right? And everyone's invited! So I thought we could go or something."

"What's the occasion?"

"Something about it being half way through the summer."

"That doesn't really seem like something people would want to celebrate."

"Yeah, I dunno. I think she just wanted an excuse to throw a party."

"Probably. Where is it?"

"Raven's Point down at the beach. It's gonna be this Saturday night."

"Who all's gonna be there?"

Fish shrugs. "Probably just the usual people. Pretty sure _Astrid_ won't skip it."

"Fiiiiiish. Stoooop."

"Oh, I'm just messin' with ya, Hic."

Cami comes bounding up to us then, carrying two, juicy drum sticks in hand, mounds of napkins wrapped around the base of each as to not grease up her fingers. "I hope you like Viking food, Burp!" she sings as she passes one to me.

The three of us walk around together after that, Cami devouring her lunch in just a couple bites, then finishing mine off when I decide my stomach can only handle so much Viking food.

At looking at my phone and seeing that it's well pass noon, I begin searching through the now dwindling crowd for Bertha and my dad. Fish and Cami are behind me the entire time, going on and on with each other about dragons as I look. Apparently Fish is into that kind of stuff, since I hear him sound very impressed with her new dragon snow globe, and is telling her all about these different types of dragons he knows about and their battle attacks and defenses.

After a couple of minutes of not being successful with my search, I jump up on a bench so I can get a better view. While scanning the crowd, Fish and Cami continuing to enthuse about dragons, I try to find my dad's large, red beard through all the people. In the end though, I happen to find the hair of someone I hadn't been expecting to see.

"Wait… _Jack_?"

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I find it hard to not want to continue helping Tooth with looking after Sophie, Jamie, and her little sister. Although it doesn't necessarily look like Tooth would have _that_ much of a problem without me around, I can't seem to pry myself away from the three enjoyable children.

As the days go on, Jamie shows me even more of his video games, expanding well out of just simple fighting games. Baby Tooth brings over numerous decks of cards to beat me at, and Sophie even introduces me to all her dolls and stuffed animals. The entire time I play along, listening intensively to all the battle moves and rules and names being explained to me, I always manage to hear Tooth, usually sitting off with one of the other kids, giggle and shoot me a smile. For some reason, this makes this funky feeling come into my stomach, but I can't put a name on it quite yet.

Once video games and card games and dolls get tiresome for the kids, Ms Bennett tells us that we can take the three children to this thing called a "flea market" that's apparently made its way through a town close to Berk. Tooth seems excited about Ms Bennett giving us permission to do this, so I assume, whatever this flea market thing is, it must be fun.

We take Tooth's car, strapping in Sophie's pink and yellow polka-dot car seat in the back, between Jamie and Baby Tooth. The one hour and thirty minutes it takes to get there unfolds to be rather entertaining; Tooth puts on some children's music, to which Sophie happily sings along to, clapping her hands together completely out of sync with the music. Baby Tooth eventually gets into it as well, but poor Jamie just complains, saying that "baby music" is stupid and that he's ten and too old for it. Tooth and I get him to at least stop grumbling by joining in with singing with the girls, me having to look at the lyrics on the back of the CD case, since I don't recall any of the songs.

By the time we arrive at the flea market parking grounds, Jamie is the first to bolt out of the car, making Tooth laugh beside me as she turns her car's engine off. She carries Sophie after unstrapping her from the back, and I hold the small hand of Baby Tooth as Jamie leads the way to the entrance of the market that appears to be made up of hundreds of colorful tents.

On entering, my breath is completely taken away.

I don't think I've ever seen so many different objects in one place before. There's vintage coaches of every color and arrangement, strange lawn ornaments in the shape of any animal you can think of, and clothes hand stitched together using various patterns. Old-fashioned wind up clocks, chipped and worn cookie jars, handcrafted jewelry, classic magazines and books. It all seems to be here, ready to be admired and sold.

Tooth asks me if I'm okay as I continue to gawk at my overwhelming surroundings.

"This is a lot of stuff," is all I'm capable of saying, and she just laughs in return.

Baby Tooth gets her sister to buy her this little collection of plaster fairy figures by promising her she'll fold and hang all of Tooth's laundry for a week, to which Tooth happily accepts. Each of the tiny figures are themed by a different flower and color, and supposedly only costing Tooth ten dollars total, which the older, dark haired girl says is totally worth not having to do her laundry for a week.

While searching for something to eat, we happen upon a booth with comic books of every kind towering to the tent's ceiling. As Tooth takes Baby Tooth and Sophie to find some food, Jamie and I scan the shelves, the young boy excitingly explaining the heroes and their sidekicks on the colorful covers of each volume he shows me. He hands the man behind the counter seven dollars for a specific issue he's always wanted, but the man says he can have it for four, since he seems like quite a big fan.

We stop at another stall where an elderly woman is selling mostly old, stuffed animals that she claims used to be her children's, before they all went off to college. As Tooth and I compliment this woman, for she tell us that most of the plushes we're looking at were indeed crafted by her, Sophie finds great interest in a particular stuffed, white and orange cat. The woman gives it to her for free, saying that our time and kind words are a good enough payment for her.

Later, the five of us all take a seat on a bench positioned off to the side, so that we're out of the way of all the shoppers. Sophie's sitting on Tooth's lap, playing with her new toy, as Jamie and Baby Tooth argue over who'd win in a fight - the superhero in the comic book Jamie had just bought, or an army of Baby Tooth's newly purchased fairy figures. It's then that I begin to hear it; this harmonious sound, making its way into my ears, sounding distant, but also like it's near.

I turn towards Tooth. "What is that?"

She stops, hushing the two older children from their bickering. She squints her pink eyes, looking into the air above me like she'll find the answer somewhere up there. Suddenly, her eyes open wide again and an expression of knowing appears on her face.

"Oh! You mean the music?" she asks brightly.

I give her a questioning look. "_Music_?"

I suppose asking what this "music" thing is isn't one of my better ideas, because now Tooth's giving me one of those old Hiccup kind of looks, and I can't say I particularly like it. Instead of having to endure her stare, I get up and start heading in the direction of the cordial sound.

"Wait! Jack!" I hear Tooth shout after me. "Where are you going?"

I barely manage to look over my shoulder as I reply with, "I want to find the music!"

Eventually Tooth catches up with me, nudging my way through the heavy crowd. Sophie's in her arms, holding on to her toy like her life depends on it, and Jamie and Baby Tooth following close behind. Tooth doesn't seem dismayed by how I had nearly abandoned her only moments ago - which I'm beginning to feel bad about. I don't know what it was, but at hearing the sound, at hearing this thing called "music", my curiosity just got the best of me; I couldn't continue to just sit there. I have to find it.

After what feels like hours of searching, our little group finally stumbles upon the source of the sound. There's three men, all looking near my father's age - maybe even older - holding strange structures in their hands, two appearing to be made of wood, another of… well, I can't really tell, to be honest. He's holding the narrow instrument up to his thin lips, seeming to be blowing air into one end of it. His fingers jump hastily across its top on what I think are small holes cut out of its surface, somehow changing the sound coming out from the opposite end.

"What _is_ that?" I ask in astonishment, pointing to the instrument in the man's hands. Other shoppers begin to stop to observe the men make their music, tapping their toes and whispering to one another with smiles on their faces.

"That's a flute," Tooth tells me. I half expect her to shoot me a curious look for not knowing this piece of information, but she doesn't, which I'm grateful for.

"And what about that one?" I decide to keep asking, pointing to the man carrying his wooden instrument in between his arms and stomach. One of his meaty hand's fingers are pressed against the long neck that perturbs off of the instruments base, the other waving over what seem to be strings guided up the slender neck.

Tooth lets out a small chuckle. "That's a guitar, of _course_."

"And that?" I point at the instrument that looks like a "guitar", only it's much smaller and fancier looking, being carried on the smaller man's shoulder, and is played with a strange wooden stick.

"Oh! That's a violin," Tooth exclaims, her words filled with the sound of delight. "I used to play that when I was younger!" She turns quickly to look at me. "Do _you_ play any instruments, Jack?"

I shrug, not being able to think of a more honest way to answer. For all I know, I do have knowledge at one of these instruments; the memory of it could just be lost somewhere inside my mind.

Tooth cocks her head up at me. "How can someone not know if they can play an instrument or not?"

I shrug again. "I'd tell you if I knew."

A crowd begins to form around the three men now, them bobbing up and down to their own beat as they play on. Sophie is asking Tooth if she can put her on her shoulders so she can see better when I feel someone small squeeze in beside me. Looking down at my side, I see Baby Tooth, her heterochromatic eyes locked on me. I reach out and place my hand on the top of her head, ruffling her dark, wavy hair.

"You wanna dance with me, Jack?" she asks, taking my hand into hers.

"But I don't know how to dance."

"That doesn't matter, silly! There's no right or wrong way to dance!"

"You sure?" I ask. "I don't want to embarrass you or anything."

"Yeah, I'm sure!" the little girl giggles, her small fingers squeezing mine, and for just a moment, I swear that the little girl grinning up at me isn't Baby Tooth, but Emma. Their faces are so similar, yet, at the same time, they're not. As I stare down at this little girl though, I can't help but be reminded of my absent, little sister; she's been away at the cursed summer camp for almost two weeks now, and though I've been able to keep myself entertained with Jamie, Sophie, and Baby Tooth, there's no possible way any of them could possibly replace the spot Emma holds in my heart.

Though, maybe for one day, I can make do with what I have.

Without acknowledging Tooth about out little agreement, Baby Tooth and I step out in front of the crowd that's formed around us. As Baby Tooth grabs ahold of my hands and beings to lead me across the dirt ground, a joyful skin in her step, I notice the man playing the, uh… oh, the _violin_... send a smile our way.

Since I don't know the first thing about dancing, I can't tell if what I'm doing looks stupid or not. Then again, I also can't tell if what Baby Tooth is doing looks stupid or not either, so I guess that makes me feel better. She has her tiny hands planted in my palms as we move our feet around each other, almost colliding into one another a couple of times, but just laughing it off. She lets out giggles of bliss as I spin her in wide circles, lifting her feet off the ground and tossing her small body into the air above me. She yelp as she flies, and begins to laugh when my hands catch her waist. I hear someone laugh from the crowd, who are even now clapping their hands to the beat of the music, and I look over to see Tooth, Jamie and small Sophie standing at her sides, large smiles on their excited faces as they clap along.

The next thing I know, people begin to rush in on what Baby Tooth and I have started. A young couple is the first to join, the girl looking embarrassed, hiding behind a thick curtain of dark hair as the boy drags her out into the open; she puts on a smile though as he grabs her hands and starts twirling her around, her hair flowing away from her red face and flying in all directions. And elderly couple joins in next, dancing formally, but with some thrill in their step, then two young girls no older than Baby Tooth start spinning the other around until they fall down in a fit of giggles. A handful of other people join too, all wearing such bright smiles on their faces as they forget their worries for just a moment and enjoy the music now dancing around all of us.

Baby Tooth pulls on my hand, and when I lock eyes with her, she signals me towards her older sister, who is still stationed on the sidelines, no more Jamie or Sophie at her sides. A surge of panic begins to run through me, but when I get a glimpse of Sophie's blonde hair running by my side, her older brother tightly holding on to her hand as they jump and spin around everyone else, I relax.

"Go dance with her, Jack!" I hear Baby Tooth yell up at me. "She could use a good dance!"

I decide not to argue, because who am I kidding. We both maneuver ourselves clumsily around all the other dancers and towards Tooth, who notices us coming her way and starts to back up, her hands up in front of her, face glowing red. I let go of Baby Tooth's hands and grab Tooth's, and as she says to me, "Jack, no. I… I can't dance," I reply with, "Yeah, well, neither can I," and we're off, twirling and spinning, hand in hand.

It's much easier to dance with Tooth than it was with her young sister, considering the height difference between the two is extremely significant, and now Tooth here's height works to my advantage. Instead of having to bend my back a bit just to be able to grab Baby Tooth's hands, I can now stand straight, Tooth's hands folding perfectly into mine. Feeling her skin against mine sends a warm sensation through every bone in my body, and I have a sudden burst of energy to keep moving and to never stop. When I see her shoot me a smile through her messy, dark hair, tangled around her heart-shaped face, I know that I never _want_ to stop.

The music and dancing does come to an end though, and a sudden feeling of emptiness overcomes me as the people begin to disperse, thanking the men behind the music for the great time. Tooth's hands leave mine, and she's saying something to me, something with a smile, but I don't hear it. It's not because of my hollow state though; it's because I hear someone calling my name through all the commotion.

"JACK!"

I look around, Tooth asking me what's wrong when she sees me attention is elsewhere. None of the faces among the dissolving crowd strike me as familiar, but then I hear the voice call out again.

"JACK OVERLAND! OVER HERE, YOU _IDIOT_!"

Though I don't know who is calling for me or where they are, my head seems to know exactly which direction to turn to find them. And when I do, I can't help but allow my face to crack with a grin so big, it hurts my cheeks.

"Geeeeeez. _That_ took a lot more effort than I thought it would," Hiccup greets me with a laugh, his freckled face suddenly becoming apparent through the crowd. "Might wanna get your ears checked, dude. I called out your name, like, a thousand times and it wasn't until I got right in your face that you heard me. That's pretty pathetic."

I try to think on my toes for a witty return, but I can't seem to be able to find the right words. Let's be honest though. How in the _world_ am I being expected to make up some snide comeback when the boy I haven't physically exchanged words with in the last two weeks - the boy I didn't realize how much I _missed_ until right now - is standing right in front of me.

"Sophie and Jamie both have to go potty, Jack," I hear Tooth interrupt my thoughts. "I'll, uh… I'll take them. And I'll take Aly with me too. Be right back." By the way she says it, the slight urgency in her voice, I can tell she's fully aware that Hiccup and me being face to face right now is a pretty big deal. Bless her for catching on to this.

As soon as Tooth's wandered off with the three kids, giving a Hiccup a brief wave and smile before going, Hiccup speaks up by asking, "So, uh… wow. Long time, no see, am I right?"

Suddenly, the words I had been unable to find earlier come rushing back to me. "Heh. Yeah... it's been a while since, uh… well, you know."

"Two weeks actually," I hear Hiccup mumble, looking down at his sneakers.

"Wow. Two weeks." Now that the amount of time we haven't been able to see other has been said aloud, it doesn't feel like it's been quite that long; it feels like it's been even _longer_, to be honest. I look down at the shorter boy, studying the way his auburn hair swoops up at the tips, right above his shoulders, and I realize that I had begun to forget what he looks like. His eyes appear to be even greener than I remember, and the ringing and twisting of his hands, telling me that he's nervous, but trying his best to hide it, is astonishingly apparent.

"So… what have you been up to?" I decide to ask, wanting to keep the conversation flowing. This is the one time in what feels like forever that I've been able to see Hiccup, and the last thing I want to do is make it awkward.

Hiccup just shrugs as he moves his eyes back up at me. "Ah, not much, really. Just mowin' lawns, gettin' summer homework done. You?"

"I've been doing a lot of babysitting actually," I tell him. "Tooth and I… we're looking after the Bennett kids, plus Tooth's little sister. They're all pretty fun."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. _You_? A _babysitter?_" He gives me one of his sly smirks, showing off the front gapped teeth that I had also nearly forgotten. "Never thought someone would trust you with the responsibility of looking after children. I'm impressed, Jack."

"You're just mean, that's what you are."

"Oh, don't get vicious with me. We haven't seen each other in, like, _forever_. Don't ruin this."

Before I can say anything back, we both hear a booming voice like a sledge hammer calling out Hiccup's name. Looking over my friend's shoulder, who's already turned to see who's calling for him, I see a mountain of a man, an auburn beard hanging from his jaw as he appears to be carrying a bag full of what I assume is food. A smaller woman, lengthily light brown hair hanging over her shoulders, stands beside him, waving over towards the two of us. Hiccup's hand rises in return, holding up a finger, telling them he'll be just another minute.

"My dad," Hiccup says as he turns back towards me. "I think we're about to head out."

The words I had been dreading to hear reach my ears, and this spontaneous urge overcomes me, telling me to reach out, take a hold of his arm, and run into the thick crowd, away from his father, away from the people that are trying to keep us apart. I don't know what it is, but the pure thought of not knowing when I'll be able to see Hiccup again sends this wrenching feeling into my chest, and I don't like it. These last two weeks were the hardest two weeks I've had to endure, despite having Tooth and the kids around to keep my company. I just don't believe in myself enough to known that I'll be able to go through another… well, _day_ without having Hiccup around.

"Is, uh… do you think… you know… we'll be able to see each other again?" I manage to get out.

At first, he looks uncertain, like he knows that the odds of us seeing each other again are thin, but then something in his eyes change as he realizes something. I ask him what it is, and he says, "So. There's this party… and-"

"A what?"

"A party, Jack. _Please_ tell me you know what a party is."

I decide to lie and nod my head, not wanting him to waste time with explanations.

"Well, this girls throwing one this Saturday at Raven Point - which is this place down at the beach - and everyone's invited, which means we could totally all go." I can hear the excitement seeping into his voice with every word he says, and I can't help but sense the same feeling growing inside of me. "Fish and I were thinking of going, and it'd be a good way for the two of us to hang out without having your mom around to keep you a safe distance from me. And you could even meet some new people. Like, people _your_ age."

I want to ensure him that I really don't mind having friends that are younger than me, but the voice of his father pierces the air again. Hiccup turns, shouts, "One more second!", then moves back towards me, saying, "What do ya say? You in?"

The thought of my parents - my _ mother_ more than anyone - finding out that I'm going to this "party" thing makes me stop and question what I'm getting myself into. On one hand, I would feel awful about breaking my mother's rules, when all she's really trying to do is keep my safe. On the other hand though, because of all her said rules, I haven't been able to see the face of my best friend. At realizing this, I suddenly don't feel bad about asking, "When does it start?"

A brilliant smile breaks across Hiccup's face as he fills me in with details. "Ten, I'm assuming. That's when they usually start anyways."

"That's kind of late…"

"Not really. Will it be hard to get outta your house?"

"I… don't think so. My parents usually go off to bed around that time."

"Good. Fish and I'll be at your place to get you at ten fifteen-ish then. Give you some time to get outta the house without your parents catching you."

"Wait, wait, wait. How exactly am I supposed to get out of my house without them knowing?"

"You just sneak out. It's really not that hard to do."

"Is that what you're going to do?"

"Pfft, _duh_."

"HICCUP!"

Hiccup turns back towards his father, still standing in the same place as before, looking more impatient this time around. Hiccup lets out a groan and shouts back, "Just…! UGH! ONE MORE SECOND PLEASE!" Turning quickly back towards me, he gives me this urgent look, like he needs me to make up my mind right now or there's no way this is going to be able to work.

It only takes me a moment to answer the question in his eyes.

"Ten fifteen you said?"

He lets out a smile as he begins to turn in the direction of where his father is waiting for him. "Ten fifteen. I'll see you then, alright?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'll see you then."

"Oh. And wear some jeans and a jacket too. It gets cold here at night."

"Got it."

He's walking off, becoming more and more out of range with every step he takes, and I don't know what makes me do it, but I call out his name. He turns back towards me without missing a beat, this look on his face that tells me I have his undivided attention. At seeing this - at realizing that he actually _wants_ to hear what I have to say - my earlier fear of him maybe not even liking me from weeks ago evaporates from my mind completely. If he didn't like me, he wouldn't have run through the crowd, yelling my name, just to get my attention. If he didn't like me, he wouldn't have invited me to this party, taking the extra steps to see that I would be able to go. If he didn't like me, he wouldn't have turned back, his eyes telling me that… well… he cares what I have to say.

I just say it. I know it must sound lame to anyone that overhears me while walking by, but I really couldn't care less.

"I missed you," I tell him.

He doesn't say anything back right away; just appears to be taking in what I've said. There's no expression on his face, and I become petrified, afraid that I may have misinterpreted this entire situation between us and said the wrong thing entirely. He proves me wrong though.

"Yeah," he says with a smile. "I missed you too."

.

* * *

.

Despite being happy about being able to see and actually _made plans_ with Jack, the drive on the way back home is tense, but not because I want to it to be. Cami won't look at me, not even out of the corner of her eye, and I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what. There's only so many things you can say to someone after witnessing something like what I saw.

Bertha had told me that Cami was going to the bathroom after I had rejoined her and my dad, both ready to leave, like I had guessed. I said I would go and wait for Cami to finish her business, to ensure that she wouldn't get lost coming back. Weaving through booths and people, the strong stench of human feces entered my nose, and I knew I had arrived at the right place. I was about to turn a corner leading to the strip of land holding the toilets when I heard it - young children talking to one another, only the words being said didn't sound very kind. They had been mocking, making fun of someone, and I had stopped in my tracks when I heard the small voice of Cami appear within them.

"Give that back, Gustav!" she yelled as I heard laughs fill the air. "I paid five dollars for that! It came right out of my allowance!"

"Oh boo hoo," I heard a boy's voice mock. "Little Cami Bog's too short to reach her precious cup. Whatever shall she do to get it back?" More laughs filled the air as I heard Cami attempt to jump from the ground to reach the mug she had only purchased earlier. By the sound of the continued snickers, I knew she hadn't been able to reach it.

"This isn't funny, guys!" Cami cried, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

"What are you talking about? This is _hilarious!_"

That's when I had had enough. The whole thing, everything about it, sounded so familiar, and I hated it. I couldn't just stand there and listen to Cami go through something like that - like something _I _had had to go through when I was her age. No one had been around to help me out when Lout and the other kids made fun of me, so, by gods, I was going to be there for her.

I didn't move fast enough though, because as soon as I turned the corner, I heard glass shatter. Cami let out a sharp gasp as my eyes locked on the remaining gray and white pieces of the dragon mug, scattered all over the dirt ground around Cami's and this Gustav kid's feet.

"Hey!" I shouted without thinking, making my way over towards the cluster of kids. The three bullies, all much bigger than Cami, jumped at my voice, their eyes growing wide when they saw me. "What do you think you're doing, messing with her like that?"

Gustav - their leader, I assume - looked paralyzed where he stood, his dark eyes darting every which way, like he was looking for a good alibi. "Uh… w-we… we were just… uh… we…"

"Save it, kid," I said harshly down to him. "I saw what happened. Now, how would _you_ feel if I did something like that to you, huh? I'm a lot bigger than you, so it that seems 'bout fair, don't'cha think?"

"Hiccup-" I heard Cami start, but a girl with short, sandpaper colored hair spoke first.

"We were just playing around…"

"Yeah, well it wasn't very funny, now was it? She paid good money for that mug, and now it's ruined because you guys thought it'd hilarious to pick on her and break it." I looked down at the three older kids, all staring at their feet, looking more like they were regretful that they gotten caught than regretful about what they had done. At noticing that Gustav had the same eye color and hair shade as Lout, I suddenly wanted to get these kids out of my sight.

"You're lucky I don't tell your parents about this," I told them firmly, letting them know that I wasn't kidding. "Now scram, all of you."

None of them missed the opportunity to run for it, not even bothering to look back before disappearing into the maze of stalls. Once they were out of sight, I bent down next to Cami and reached for one of the shattered mug pieces, but she unexpectedly whacked my hand away before I could grab it. Shooting her a look, she returned it with a bitter glare I hadn't been expecting.

"I didn't _need_ your help," she spat at me, snatching up the last piece of mug and throwing it into her backpack.

"Oh, sure you didn't," I said back, rolling my eyes as I got up from the ground. "It wasn't like they were going to leave you alone after smashing your cup or anything. If I hadn't come in, they probably would've also gotten a hold of your snow globe and did the same to it."

Cami quickly stood up straight, swinging her backpack over her shoulder, and gave me another death glare. "I can take care of myself, Hiccup! Now leave me alone!" I noticed the tears building up on the rim of her eyes, and before I could apologize or say anything, she was off, in the direction that I had arrived from.

Fast forward a good hour, and here we are now, sitting in the back of my dad's car, not looking at each other. Bertha had asked how our day had been, and I did most of the talking, since apparently Cami doesn't want to talk to _anyone_, not just me. This makes me feel a little better, but then again, not really.

Things get even worse, however, when Bertha asks if I'd be willing to start actually _babysitting_ Cami during the days I don't have to mow, since taking her daughter to work every day is beginning to take a toll on her and her fellow employees. I don't really have any choice but to accept this offer, especially with my dad's eyes burning into me from the rearview mirror. Cami doesn't seem pleased by the news by the way she crosses her arms, sinking more into her seat, and letting out a mean "hmph". Can't say that particularly made me feel any better.

Once we arrive back at my place, Bertha suggests that Cami and I stay outside and play while she and my dad get dinner ready. I try making eye contact with Cami when her mom mentions this, but she seems determined to not let me through.

We end up just sitting out on the stone steps of my front porch, her on one side leaning against the exterior of the house, me on the other leaning against the column. My dad let Toothless out before closing the door, so the little furball's sitting in my lap, looking up and begging for a back rub, when all I can think about is the little, hurt girl sitting only five feet away, her turquoise backpack resting against her chest, being squeezed by her small arms.

Gods, this is so stupid...

"Cami, I'm sorry," I say taking a deep breath of courage. "I didn't know that you-"

"I'm not talking to you," she throws at me, still not looking in my direction.

I look down at Toothless, and he already has his green eyes on me, giving me this look like he's telling me I should know better than to think it would be _that_ easy to win this girl back. I guess the cat's got a point. I'm going to have to approach this situation from another angle.

"Hey… do you like bikes?" I decide to ask

Cami doesn't answer; just continues to look anywhere but at me.

I ignore her not answer and go on. "Because I have this bike in the garage that's really, really fast and stuff. I've been workin' on it for a long time, so it's really cool."

Still nothing.

"I can let you see it, if you want."

There we go! I see her head turn only a bit to look at me, her blue eyes becoming visible. She doesn't stop looking at me, like she's silently asking me to go on, so I do.

"I race it a lot," I tell her, then realize what I'm saying. "Well, I _want_ to race it a lot. I haven't gotten around to doing it yet though."

"Why?"

Okay, this is good. I guess now that she's talking to me again, I can grow off of this. Just can't say the wrong thing...

"Well… the other kids are kinda weird about me racing against them," I tell her, reaching out and beginning to stroke Toothless between his ears. He closes his eyes, lying down in my lap, now resting his soft head on my forearm. "I mean, they kinda always have been."

"Why?"

I shrug. "I was small when I was growing up, y'know. I mean, I still am for my age, but it was even worse when I was, like, around your age. They would all pick on me for tiny and not being able to do _anything_ right. That's actually how I got my name."

"…really?"

"Yeah. I was looked at as the hiccup of the group. You know, the runt of the liter or something."

"So that's why you go by Hiccup?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

"Why would you go by a nickname that was made to make fun of you though?"

I shrug again. "I dunno. It just kinda stuck."

Cami doesn't say anything for a moment, just looks away. I can tell she's thinking deeply over what I've told her though, so I allow her some time to herself. Toothless' purring replaces the silence, much to my relief, sounding like a small engine being revved from my lap.

"Why don't they race you though?" Cami asks after a moment.

"I dunno. I think it's because they don't take me seriously, or they don't think I'll be nearly as good as them, so they don't want to waste their time. I don't really like dwelling on it, y'know? Makes me feel… well…"

"Bad?"

Looking over at the small girl, I notice that she's already looking back at me with an expression on that tells me everything; I look at her face and I see the same face that I was forced to look at every day in the mirror while growing up. I suddenly want to reach out and wrap her into a bear hug, but I don't know if that'd be pushing the boundaries, so I stay in my place.

"Yeah. It makes me feel bad."

"… I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

She quickly looks away and down at her feet, being held in a pair of hot pink flip-flops. I hear her remove her backpack from her lap and place it on the porch beside her, now curling her legs in to her chest, wrapping her arms around them like she had been doing with her backpack earlier.

"Kids make fun of me sometimes too," I hear her say in a quiet voice.

I don't really know what to say. The first thing that comes to my mind is pretty sarcastic, and I know that's the _last_ kind of thing I want to say right now with Cami being all sensitive and quiet. I keep my mouth shut instead and hope she decides to continue.

"They think I'm weird… 'cause I like dragons so much. And 'cause I'm really hyper, which I think is really stupid. I mean, I can't help being hyper!"

"Kinda like how I couldn't help being small," I say.

"Yeah! Like that!"

"You know what I think about all those kids that make fun of you?"

"What?"

"I think they can all go to Niflheim."

Cami, bless her little soul, breaks into a fit of giggles at me saying this, and that gets me to laughing as well. Toothless jumps out of my lap at this, being disturbed and probably annoyed by the sudden movement. He wanders off into the front yard, his nose to the ground as he explores.

"So what if they think you're weird," I tell her. "You're you and that's all that matters, right? You can't change who you are, and if you do… well, then you're just stupid."

Cami nods her head in agreement, a smile now on her freckled face. "Yeah! Who needs those lame brains anyways, right? They don't know me!"

"Yeah! Who needs 'em!"

We continue to sit there on the porch, just laughing at the mere thought of all those kids that have picked on us through the years not even being worth our time. I'll admit, but this whole thing feels great, being able to talk about all this. After so much time, people pretty much stopped listening to me complain about always being the target for bullying. Teachers would turn a blind eye, because they all knew that there was just no stopping kids like Lout from picking on kids like me, and my dad even just threw up his hands and accepted the fact that I was going to be the school laughing stalk. Being able to sit here though with a girl who just _gets it_ - that understands to the dot what I had to and am still going through - well… that feels really, really nice.

"Hey, you still have the mug in your backpack?" I ask Cami, and when she nods her head, I shoot her a smile and say, "Wanna go inside and fix it before dinner's ready? If we're fast enough, maybe you could even make some of that hot chocolate you were telling me about before we eat."

She looks genuinely stunned to hear me say this, but an enormous grin eventually spreads across her face as she quickly begins nodding her head so fast, I'm surprised she didn't black out a least a little. She jumps up from the stairs as I call for Toothless, listening to her start to sing a little song she's probably making up right on spot about how excited she is about making hot chocolate. Toothless jumps into my arms, and as we walk inside, I can't help but be amazed at how well that played out.


	11. Demons

***CRIES A LITTLE* I'M SO SORRY, GUYS. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.**

My defense for why this update took me so long to write is that I got terrible sick last week, making it literally impossible for me to do really anything, including things I like/wanted to do. And this chapter, as you will probably notice while reading, has a very angsty mood to it, so it took me a lot of energy to get out. I really had to be in the right mood to work on it, so _that_ definitely didn't help matters. But it's here! It's here and ready to be read!

This chapter was going to be longer than this, believe it or not, but then I realized that Jack's last paragraph was just sooooooo long in itself. So, because of that, I'm just going to make the next chapter what happens _after_ the gang leaves the party and goes on their own little adventure. Get excited, because I've planned that part to be really fun and wooo!

Oh, and this is really important: I'm going to be putting a nice, bold **TRIGGER WARNING**on this chapter, because there is a character or two that has a serious breakdown somewhere in there, and I know some people can get triggered off of stuff like that. So yeah. Be warned!

There's a new few characters introduced as well, but don't expect them to stick around for long. I'm mainly just adding them for fanservice and to add some conflict in the next couple of chapters. Normally I would want to give them bigger parts, but I'm already working with so many characters as it is, and this story is already about half way over anyways, so introducing anymore major characters doesn't seem very smart to me.

Well, I guess that's all I have to say about that. Why do I always make the longest writer's comments anyways? I just got too much to say, I guess. Ah well.

Thanks for reading and the lovely reviews, everyone! You people keep me writing, I swear! Love you all!

.

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Sneaking out of my house proves to be a lot simpler than I had anticipated. My parents go to bed exactly when I had guessed they would, me pretending to go upstairs to call it a night as well. As soon as my illuminate clock shines a red ten fifteen and I can hear the deep snore of my father from down the hall, I quietly slip on the suggested pair of jeans and my navy blue hoodie. Minus the squeaky top stairs, me nearly losing my footing on the bottom step, and the heavy crack of the deadbolt locking behind me, I manage to make it out of the house without being noticed.

The algid night air hits me like a battling ram as soon as I l turn away from the door, completely catching me off guard when I feel a nipping breeze brush against my face. Suddenly becoming very aware of my bare hands and the hole in the knee of my jeans, I almost head back into the guaranteed warmth of my house. It's a pair of bright lights down the street that stop me though. After I give my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness, I'm able to make out the shape of a small car, the two lights becoming obvious headlights. It must be Fish and Hiccup waiting for me; who else _could _it be at this time of night anyways?

I begin to jog down the dirt street towards them, shoving my hands into my pockets because of the sudden rush of chilly air around me. Dang. I know Hiccup had said that it'd be cold out tonight, but I would never have imagined it would be _this_ cold.

Once I'm able to see through the windshield of the car, I notice the two boys sitting inside motioning me over towards the back doors. Following their instruction, I pull on the crisp door handle and slide inside, making sure to make as minimal noise possible as I shut the door.

Hiccup turns himself to face me from the passenger's seat. "Cold, huh?"

I remove my hands from my pockets, mainly because of the dramatic change of temperature; the smaller heaters on the ceiling the car seem more like a blessing than anything. "No. Not _really."_

"Liar."

The drive to this place called Raven Point doesn't take necessarily long; quite honestly, I don't get to check out a lot of the scenery passing us by considering, one, it's dark outside, and two, I'm distracted. For the entirety of the ride, Fish has this thing he refers to as "the radio" on, which produces music very different from the type I heard while at the flea market. Him and Hiccup sing along to a few rather catchy songs, and I have a hard time not erupting with laughter at their incapability of singing on pitch. Me telling them this when they ask about my outbursts only gets Hiccup going even more, him practically screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs, his voice squeaking and cracking at all the wrong places. He eventually stops though - despite my laughing egging him on - when Fish directs us off the main road and on to a dirt road.

After turning down the music and a moment of driving in near darkness, I notice several other cars parked out in the open field before us, scattered in no organized fashion. Some kids around my age and younger stand by their cars, making conversation with their friends, while others walk towards the ledge of what appears to be a cliff, disappearing once they approach a ramp and descend down it.

I hear a loud click from Hiccup's corner of the car, and he whips around to face me, a large grin on his freckled face. "Ready to go to your first part-ah?"

"_Wait._ Jack's never been to a party before?" Fish asks as he twists and yanks his keys from the little slot they were inserted in.

"Nooooo sir, he hasn't." I hear Hiccup's door open, and as he steps out, he add on, "Jack here's super sheltered I've discovered. He's practically a _virgin_ when it comes to living life."

I want to ask what a "virgin" is, but I don't get the chance since Fish lets out a booming laugh, then turns back towards me and says, "Well, then this is gonna be a fun night for you, buddy!"

After Fish double checks that he's locked his car, the three of us follow suit with the other kids also attending the party. The ramp connected to the ledge does go down to the beach below, like I had assumed. We climb down the wooden boards, all our hands being shoved into our jacket's pockets as we get further and further down towards the lapping water.

I want to say a lot of people show up for this gathering, but I don't necessarily know how much people would be qualified as "a lot". They all appear to be divided up into several groups though; cliques of girls, all wearing oversized sweaters and furred boots, mainly stand off by a small fire, plastic cups and mugs in their hands as they all idly chat with one another; bands of boys collect near where the drinks are found, laughing and shoving each other around in a friendly kind of way, a few wearing coats that state BERK HIGH proudly on their chests.

As we enter the scene, the solid, rock ground bleeds into this strange substance I think is called "sand". I get the urge to take my sneakers off so I can feel the foreign texture in between my toes, but I decide against it, assuming that an action like that would be deemed inappropriate.

"Jaaaaaaaaack? You still with us, buddy?"

Hiccup's voice drags me back into reality, the thick collar to his heavy, army green jacket pulled up to block his face from the wind. I notice Fish wandering off, probably to get some us drinks, like he was saying he would do when we were walking down here.

"This must be a lot for you to take in, huh?" Hiccup asks me with a smirk, and I nod sheepishly down at the sand at my feet. "Hey, don't feel bad about it, dude. It makes sense. I mean, considering your situation and all. But yeah. Uhh… Berk High's kinda on the smaller side, so this is probablyyyy… eiiigh… maybe half the sophomore class, and maybe a quarter of both the juniors and seniors."

"What about the, uh… the first one?" I ask.

"You mean the freshman?"

"Yeah. The freshman."

Hiccup laughs. "No one invites the freshman to these kinda things."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because no one likes them, duh."

"Why's that?"

"It's just… no one does, y'know. It's, like, this universal agreement between the three older grades. We all just hate the freshman."

"Yeah, but _why_?"

He places his hand on my shoulder, letting out a dramatic sigh. "You may not understand the hierarchy of high school right now, my friend, but I can guarantee you that one day you will. One day."

Fish returns then with three plastic cups in hand, saying he'll make sure to not drink too much tonight so we can all get home safely. I want to ask what he means by this and how this liquid could possibly jeopardize our journey back home, but the two other boys have already gone to taking long swigs from the cups. Fish lets out a satisfying sigh once he comes up for air, and Hiccup squeezes his eyes shut, seeming to be having a hard time getting the beverage down.

"You okay?" I ask him with a curious laugh.

He shots me a thumbs up with his unoccupied hand. "Never better. The first sip's always the hardest to get down, am I right?"

Fish raises his cup. "Amen to that. But it's always worth it."

"Go on," Hiccup eggs me on once he's restored himself. "Take a sip. You may like it."

Looking down at the substance in my hands, I can't tell whether I really _do_ want to try it or not. The shade of the fluid is this unappetizing yellow-orange hue, small bubbles forming from under the foamy surface and dotting the brims of the cup. The aroma coming from it is sour, making the inside of my nostrils burn.

"I… I don't know, Hiccup…" I manage to stumble out, still observing the drink in hand. "It doesn't look very good."

"You don't have to _finish_ it or anything if you don't like it," Hiccup assures me with a simple shrug, taking a small sip from his cup. This time his expression doesn't change as the drink goes down effortlessly. "Just try it, you know. To say you did."

I sigh, looking down at the yellow liquid, and hear Hiccup chuckle under his breath.

Well… here goes nothing.

As soon as the drink crawls down my throat, a growing bitterness latches on to my tongue and doesn't let go. I feel a fizzy sensation linger on my lips as I lower the cup, clasping my eyes shut like Hiccup had as I fight the sour taste that's dancing around inside of my mouth and making my eyes feel all wonky. The horrid aftertaste remains well after I've managed to swallow, but it's actually quite bearable; not to mention the fact that the drink has seemed to have heated my insides up considerably.

"Judging by your abhorred expressions, I think I can assume you didn't like it?" Hiccup asks me once I manage to open my eyes again. When I nod in agreement, licking my lips in attempt to rid my tongue of the awful taste, the two boys both start to laugh.

"Don't worry about it," Fish tells me once I apologize to the two, handing my drink to him as to get rid of it. "It's a required taste."

We find a nice spot on a patch of rocks after what Hiccup tells me is one of my first "high school experiences", joking with one another about trivial things and attempting to keep ourselves warm. As the minute hand on my watch moves from number to number, I notice that the temperature seems to be dropping, but I find myself not minding. The coldness, I discover, is actually quite nice.

Once their drinks run out, we all wander back over towards this metal, barrel looking thing that I assume contains the strange liquid from before, a handful of kids already crowding around it, plastic cups in hand. Some of them are laughing at what appears to be nothing, hanging from their friend's shoulders for support, and others are talking a lot louder than they really need to be. Hiccup refills the drinks as Fish introduces me to the two familiar blonde twins, who tell me their names are Ree and Tee; I forget which one said which name, since the names in themselves are too similar to tell apart, just like their owners. I'm surprised to see that Lout's nowhere in sight, since every time I see this set of twins, he always appears to be around. Though, without him here, I do notice that they have a softer, kinder feeling to their faces, rather than their rough, narrowed eyed sneers.

It's mainly Fish and the twins that exchange words, Hiccup chiming in every once and awhile. I notice that the smaller boy looks more excluded than he usually does, like he's merely standing on the sidelines of this conversation, a little like me. He doesn't seem to be able to make direct eye contact with any of them - minus maybe Fish - and he's fidgety, constantly moving his drink from one hand to the other, taking sips from it whenever he can't find anything better to do. These actions remind me of when we first met, how inept and awkward he was as he attempted to help me get down from that tree and walked me home afterwards. Thinking about that day brings a smile to my face and a warm feeling to my stomach, kind of like that drink earlier. It's weird thinking about that, considering everything we've been through since that day: the day I "wrecked" Lout's bike, the weeks of training and getting to know each other, the dreadful day of the race that I barely even recall, and the endless weeks I had to endure without being allowed in his company. Now that I really think about all those events in order like that, I've actually only known Hiccup for about four-ish weeks.

Wow. It feels like it's been much, _much_ longer than just that.

Hiccup's eyes suddenly lock on mine, and I'll admit that I'm a little embarrassed to have been thinking such intimate thoughts about him while he's standing right there. That uneasiness washes away though when he jerks his head to tell me to look over my shoulder, saying, "I think someone's lookin' for ya, Jack."

I turn around and, sure enough, there's Tooth, all bundled up in a multicolored plaid jacket with a lot of buttons and ties. She seems to be accompanied by three boys though, two of them like giants in comparison to little, old her, and the other short and kind of on the pudgy side. Tooth catches me looking her way, her dark face lighting up as she shots her hand into the air and begins to wave.

I wave back, and as I'm about to ask Hiccup if it's okay if I can go off with her for a while, I hear him say, as if he had been reading my mind, "Go hang out with her. We can catch up later, alright?"

"Just don't leave without me," I tell him. "I don't want to walk home."

Hiccup laughs. "I don't think we have a choice. You're probably going to be the only fully sober person here by the time this thing's over."

Not bothering to question him on what exactly the word "sober" means, I go off to join Tooth and her posse, still sending me that bright smile of hers that manages to warm me up, despite the cold.

"Hey there, Miss Tooth Fairy," is how I greet her, tipping my head in her direction. "Collect any interesting teeth lately?"

The small girl shakes her head as she lets out a laugh, moving a loose strand of her dark hair out of her eyes. "No, I haven't actually, thanks for asking. But I _do,_ however, have some people I'd like you to meet." She turns towards the three boys standing behind her, moving over and placing her hand on my arm, sending an unexpected chill to run up my spine. "Guys. This is Jack. That new boy to town that I've told you about." She then turns back towards me, her hand still where she left it. "Jack, these are some of my friends from school. This is Nikolay. He's a foreign exchange student from Russia!"

Standing in front of me has got to be the largest human being I've ever laid eyes on. The dark haired and stunning blue-eyed boy must stand a good foot taller than my own _father_, and has this guy actually somehow managed to grow a legitimate _beard?_

"Ah! Jack! Just call me Nik!" the broad teen with an odd, foreign accent that I guess is Russian greets me. He reaches out, taking a firm grasp of my hand - which are _ginormous _compared to mine - and begins to shake it so forcefully that I nearly get knocked off balance. "We have heard so much about you from little Ana here! Nice to finally be meeting you!"

"And this is Sandy," Tooth goes on once Nik releases me from his death grip. "He's, uh… he's a mute, so he doesn't talk very much." Looking down next to Nik, I see a short, round boy with spiky blonde hair shooting out in all directions, small eyes the same color and shape as lemons. He moves his chubby hands around in some wild gestures, causing me to raise my eyebrows in curiosity, and once he's finished, Tooth tells me, "He said 'It's nice to meet you, Jack'." I shot the little man a grin, impressed to see that, despite his obvious disadvantage, he's found a way to communicate with his friends. He returns it with a toothy smile and a cheerful thumbs up.

"And, last but not least," Tooth says, moving towards the last of the three boys and resting her hand gently against his thick arm. "This is East."

This East guy looks a lot more rugged and worn standing next to the other two boys, with his gruff stubble, tattooed arms, and short, silver hair. I'm not surprised to hear yet another foreign accent - either some denomination of British or Australian, I can't tell - when he says to me, "So _you're_ this Jack bloke we're heard so much about, eh?" For some reason, by the sour tone in his voice and the unfriendly glare he's sending my way, I get the odd feeling that, for whatever reason, East doesn't really like me. I'm a little taken aback by this, considering this is the first time I've even _seen_ the guy, so how could he possibly not like me already?

I decide to play it cool though, mostly for Tooth's sake. "You bet I am," I confirm, giving him a grin in response to his glare.

"So… what you're sayin' then is that _you're_ the bloke that Ana almost ran over with her car a few weeks ago, hm?" I can tell by the way he says it that he doesn't find that whole situation to be rather humorous, which I don't blame him for, not really. I don't let his sour attitude ruin my mood though.

"Oh yeah, that's me!" I go with a laugh. "The infamous Jack! Causing trouble everywhere I go!"

East just narrows his bright, green eyes at me again as Tooth's face turns bright pink to match hers. I begin to feel the apparent tension I've suddenly caused, but Nik, however, eases it by bursting out laughing, his vociferous howl making the four of us jump in our spots. He moves over towards me, wrapping his burly arm around my shoulder, and says, "Ah, Ana! I like this one. He is quite funny!"

Tooth relaxes some, letting out a small laugh as Sandy shakes his head, a smile on his bright face. "I knew, out of all of you, _you_ would like him the most, Nik," she confesses. East doesn't seem to let up though, which intrigues me; what could this guy possibly have against me? Well, despite the fact that his friend almost ran me over with her car, but hey, that's way in the past, right? And it's not like either of us or her car were seriously damaged anyways, so why hold a grudge?

Nik says something about being thirsty, encouraging East to join him and Sandy on the quest to get drinks. East doesn't look very pleased with this notion - I can tell mainly by the way he moves closer to Tooth as the idea is suggested, like he doesn't plan on leaving her side - but the mountain of a man that's Nik wraps his arm around East's shoulders and guides him away from Tooth and me, going on loudly about maybe meeting some cute girls over at what he calls a "keg". As they go, I see East turn his head back several times in our direction, as to make sure we haven't run off.

"Sorry about them," Tooth apologizes, looking at the sand at her feet and playing with the cuffs of her jacket. "They're all kinda… well… they're not necessarily that good with people, you know."

"Tooth, I don't know what you're talking about," I tell her happily, hoping to restore some of her confidence in her friends. "Did you see how Nik just _embraced _me? I don't think anyone I've just met has _ever_ done something like that before! I mean, he's easily got to be one of the friendliest guys I've met here. And that Sandy seems nice enough as well. That, uh… that big East guy though… he seems a little… uhhh…"

Tooth lets out a small chuckle. "Protective?"

"_Yeeeeah_. Specifically towards you."

"We've been friends since he moved here in the sixth grade from Australia," she tells me. "He doesn't have any siblings, and all of his other friends are guys, so I gueeeess he kind of warmed up to me, being the only girl friend he has. It's nice though, knowing someone tough like him has my back. He can definitely scare away the mean kids at school when they pick on me, that's for sure!"

"People pick on you?" I ask, a little surprised to hear this. Tooth seems normal enough; well, when you minus the whole tooth necklace and colorful highlights trailing through her hair, I mean. I don't understand how someone could possibly want to make fun of someone as sweet and amiable as Tooth here.

The small girl simply shrugs, trying to appear like it's really no big deal, but I can tell it bothers her. I decide to drop it though, since I remember the time I asked Hiccup about why he was picked on and how he instantly shot me down. Instead, I turn myself towards where the three friends left to, and despite the fact that East now has a plastic cup in hand, I can tell he's having a hard time not peering over in our direction. Nik appears to be trying to get his focus off of us and on to the drinks and people around them, but it also doesn't appear to be working that well.

"I don't really think East likes me," I say, mainly to myself.

"Jack!" Tooth cries, actually sounding somewhat hurt. "How can you say that? You only _just_ met him!"

I shrug. "Just a hunch."

"Well, if it means anything… I like you."

Hearing these words send a hot feeling to shot through me, quickly reaching my face and making my insides heat up. I try my best to ignore it, and luckily for me, it's pretty dark out, so Tooth can't see the red I feel flooding into my cheeks.

"Thanks," I say back, trying to keep my cool. "I… like you too… if it means anything."

She giggles. "Thanks, Jack."

.

* * *

.

I've had a lot of headaches in my life, but this one. Man, this one's got to be one of the _worst_.

It only takes about two cups and a half of beer to get me feeling like a useless sack of potatoes, and that's honestly not that much of a surprise. Normally, I don't drink - normally, I don't even _go_ to these parties - so naturally my body wasn't ready to take in all that alcohol. I'm definitely feeling it now though; ah man, am I feeling it.

Giving Fish the remains of my unfinished drink, I tell him that I'm going back to his car to lay down for a bit. He hands his keys over to me without question, too busy flirting hardcore with Ree, who's actually been laughing at all his stupid jokes so far. At least him and Jack, who's gone off with Tooth and her friends, are having a good time.

I maneuver my way up the ramp leading to the overlook, passing by other kids as they enter Raven Point. Most just ignore me, but some that I recognize from my grade send me weird looks, like they can't believe I actually decided to show up. I don't blame them though. Like I said, I normally don't go to these kinds of things.

Which leads to the question: why _did_ I agree to go in the first place?

I don't know what it is, but the line between point A and point B doesn't seem as clear to me as it used to be. Maybe it's just the beer settling in, but maybe it's just something going on with me mentally - when I'm not tipsy as hell, I mean. Ever since Jack got here, things have been getting all messed up, and I can't say I particularly like it. Not that this has anything to do with Jack, because it totally doesn't. More of a coincidence than anything.

First there's Astrid, and that's just an issue that I can't think of a solution to. I've tried countless times since the day of Jack and Lout's race to talk to her, to tell her that her silent treatment isn't really making me feel worse about what I did, because I already feel awful about it to begin with. Every time I open my mouth in her general direction when Fish and I are at The Ring though, she always finds something to say first or somewhere else to be. Fish has told me to just let it go; let her start talking to me when she feels like it, and I've decided to take that route. Not that I like it. Even though the feisty blonde always seemed to be out to get me on everything I did, I can honestly say that I'd rather have her getting all upset and in my face than have her just ignoring me altogether.

Then there's the whole Bertha and Cami situation, and just thinking about it just makes my head hurt even worse. With meeting Bertha x-amount of weeks ago and figuring out her statues in my dad's love life, I had been determined to not let her in. I thought there would be no physical way that I would let a potential mother figure into my life again - not after the hell I had to endure seven years ago - but man, this woman is proving me wrong. With every time I see her, every time I'm forced to sit down and talk, I find that I'm growing more and more fond of her. She just gives off this pleasant vibe that engulfs the entire room and all those in it, and while it makes me happy to see that my dad's found such a likeable woman, it also makes me incredible sick. Not to mention little Cami. Like her mother, I had been determined to not let her in, but she head-butted her way full force through my barriers anyway. Now I'm being expected to _babysit_ for the girl, and I hate to admit this, but I'm actually looking forward to it.

The gleam from the artificial lights down at the beach begin to fade once I reach the top of the cliff, along with the crowd of fellow party goers. It's not as cold up here as it was down there, and for this, I am grateful. No matter how long you live in Berk, you never really do get used to the coldness.

As standing up straight begins to grow more and more difficult, I mentally curse Fish for parking so far away. Luckily for me, by the time my vision begins to get all wonky and my legs begin to buckle, I've arrived at the driver's door, pulling out the keys from my jacket pocket as my forehead continues to throb. It takes me a moment to find the key slot, since I've closed my eyes to try to ward away the headache, but I somehow manage it after what seems like hours of trying. I crawl in, slamming the door behind me, and just sit there behind the wheel, my eyes squeezed shut. The air in here is just as cold as it was out there, so once I summon up enough strength, I reach out and turn the key in the ignition. The car is instantly brought to life, the air vents from above letting out a warm gust of relaxing air.

I'm about ready to go home, to say the least, but I know I can't. Fish and Jack are still down there, enjoying themselves like I know I should be doing as well. Even if I were to drive home though - which I legally can't anyways, considering I don't have my license yet - they won't have a way of getting back to their houses. The memory of promising Jack I wouldn't leave without him enters my mind and I officially cross the option of bolting off my list.

The thought of maybe taking a little nap enters my mind - to at least try and get rid of this awful headache - and I find it extremely difficult to keep my eyes open after that. The cushion of the headrest suddenly becomes the most comfortable surface I've ever rested my head on, and as I feel my shoulders relax, my eyes shut, allowing sweet sleep to take me over.

I don't dream, don't think as I drift off, and that's more than I could've asked for. I already have to spend so much of my days worrying about everything going on in my life, so the last place I want to have to continue that is in my dreams.

I'm not out for long though. Right as I'm about to enter full sleep mode, the car I'm in jolts to life, and the next thing I know, I'm moving backwards at an alarming speed, causing me to wake up in an instant. My foot must have accidentally move on to the acceleration while I was asleep - wow, way to go, Hiccup - so I slam the same foot as hard as I can against the brake pedal without thinking. Me doing this isn't what stops me though. It's the front of someone else's car that does that.

No. _No no no no no no._ That one word repeats over and over again in my mind as I crawl out of the driver's seat and out into the cold night again, fully awake now. The brisk air hurts my throat as I take a breath in, causing me to cringe as I see the driver of the other car step out. I cringe yet again, maybe this time even harder, when I see the driver's face staring back at me with pure shock.

"Ah shit," I say under my breath as Astrid walks around the hood of her car and towards me, the color of her face growing more and more red with each step she takes. The determined look in her eyes sends chills to run up my spine. I'm dead. I've finally done it, I've finally crossed the line with her, and I'm as good as dead.

"Hiccup Haddock! Why you… you… AHHH!" she yells at me, stomping her foot out of frustration.

"I-I know this must look really bad, Astrid, but I can _assure_ you that-"

"You can assure me _what_? That this was an _accident?"_

"Well… yeah! You think I _meant _to-"

"It doesn't even _matter_ if it was an accident, Hiccup! You just dented my car… my _brand new car_!"

Ah man. Like this night couldn't possibly get any more worse.

"Listen… I'll… I'll pay for it! I have the money, okay? I'll give you all of my work money from this summer and you can use all of it for repairs and-"

"Why do you always _do_ this?"

"D-do what?"

"Always _mess everything up!_"

The words hurt me more than I had expected them to. Though I've heard them countless times, coming from several different mouths, hearing them come from hers wounds me more.

"Astrid… chill. It's… it's just a car…"

"Every time something bad happens around here, it's always because of _you_!"

"That… that's not true…"

"Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that? What about that one time Ree and I were working on that science project last year, huh? When you decided to _help us out_, everything went wrong and we failed!"

"T-t-that was an accident! How was I supposed to know that-"

"And that time I was at work and you ran into me, making Heather's shake splatter all over my favorite shirt, completely _ruining _it?"

"Oh, come on, Astrid. That was-"

"And not to mention that time you let Jack, someone completely unfamiliar with biking, race against _Lout_, the dirtiest racer in Berk, almost getting himself _killed_ in the process!"

"Okay, fine! That was my fault, okay? Blame that one all on me, that one was all me. But listen! I've _learned_ from that. I messed up and-"

"NO!" she cries. "You will _never_ learn from your mistakes, Hiccup! Every time disaster falls, you say that, but nothing ever changes! I had been having the worse night tonight, and I thought that coming to this party would make me feel better. But _no!_ You had to come along and completely _ruin _everything! That's all you ever do! Everywhere you go, you leave a mess behind! Gods, even when you were a fucking kid! You mess everything up now, and you messed everything up back then! I mean, look at what happened with you own mom! You messed one little thing up with her, one little thing, and look at where it got her! She's _dead!_ She's dead, and it's all _your_ _fault_!"

My head stops hurting. My insides become hallow. I'm numb as I replay her words over and over again in my mind. _It's all your fault. It's all your fault. It's. All. Your. Fault._

"Don't say that…"

"If you had just _listened_ to her, done what she told you, she would be here _right_ _now_!"

"Please… don't say that…"

"You messed everything up with her, and everyone knows it! Even _you_ know it and just can't admit it! You're an accident waiting to happen, Hiccup, and a complete waste of space, and you need to just get out of here before you get another person _killed_!_"_

My breathing hitches, making me not only unable to breathe, but unable to speak. We stare at each other, her eyes burning into mine, and it's then that I know she means every word she said. She had buried all these truths inside of her for all these years, and just now she has decided to let it all out at once, in a fit of fury. Though I barely notice it, I feel her run pass me, shoving me out of the way with her shoulder as she goes, her face still red with anger. All I can focus on are her words though, dangling in the air in front of me, my eyes glued to them as they force me to soak them in. Her quick footsteps fade out after a moment, leaving me alone in the darkness.

_It's all your fault._

And she's right. She's so incredible right. Everything is always my fault. My mom's death is my fault. I've spent the last seven years trying to convince myself otherwise - that there was nothing I could've done to stop her from dying - but in the end, it all comes back to me. Me being the selfish little brat I was, only thinking about myself and none of the other people around me. It was that greediness, that immature fixation on me, me, _me_, that got her killed, and I'm to blame for it.

"Hiccup?"

The sudden voice startles me, snapping me from my thoughts and back into the real world. I turn around, wiping away the tear that I hadn't even noticed was making its way down my cheek, and come face to face with a concerned looking Jack.

"Hey, Jack," I let out in barely a whisper, my voice cracking as I sniff in an attempt to hold back any more tears.

The worried look on his face doesn't weaken as he takes a step closer to me. "Are you… are you okay?"

I shake my head, wiping my eyes with my jacket sleeve. "N-no. Not really. Where's Astrid go?"

"Tooth went after her," he says, approaching me steadily. "She wants to make sure she's okay. She seemed really upset."

"Yeah…"

There's a pause, where I can tell Jack's trying to decide if he should say what's on his mind. Before I can tell him to just let it out, he says, "We… we heard what she said… about your mother…"

I turn away, not wanting him to see any tears roll down my cheek as a rush of guilt comes over me again. The last thing I want is to have Jack see is me cry, especially over being yelled at by a girl.

"Was… was what she said… true?"

The question catches me off guard, and, not going to lie, kind of pisses me off. How on _earth_ is someone supposed to respond to a question like that? Yes, everything she said _is _true, okay? Every last word that you heard is the cold, hard truth, no filters or anything. It's my fault that my mom is dead. That's the truth. You happy?

"Yeah... kinda…"

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

I'm not sure if it's the anger I'm feeling at myself or the anger I'm feeling at Jack for asking such a stupid and cliché question, but something inside of my snaps then. All the pent up rage suddenly wants to get out of its shell, to be heard and known to the world. I don't bothering fighting it as I spin back towards Jack and cry, "Fine! Okay! You wanna talk about it? Then we can talk about it! It's all my fault that my mom's dead, alright? I was eight-years-old and I was selfish and stupid, and because of that selfishness and stupidness, my mom died!"

"How?"

It's weird, seeing someone stay so calm and collected as you completely and utterly lose it. It's weird, but also extremely frustrating.

"It was… every day after school! I always went and hung out with Fish and Lout and Astrid and the twins at Fish's house and we would play pretend games! They never let me play the character I wanted to play though, and I was always the bad guy and I _hated_ it! Lout always won! I always lost! But that day, I was actually winning! I was doing well, and I-I had made Astrid laugh, and for an eight-year-old boy with a crush, that meant _everything_!

"But then… but then my mom called. She wanted me to come home to help her make dinner or something. I-I told her I didn't want to, that I was having too much fun with my friends to leave, so she said that… she said that instead of walking home, she would come pick me up. Give me a couple extra minutes to play. But I didn't want only a couple extra minute! I wanted to play longer! So… she told me that she had to some last minute shopping to do and that, after she was done, she'd… she'd come and pick me up. That way I would have an extra half an hour to play."

"And that's what you guys agreed on?"

I sniff, wiping my eyes with my jacket sleeve again. "Yeah. So I got to play an extra thirty minutes with all of them. I didn't end up winning though, of course. Lout never let me win. But… but after we had finished… there… there was this crash… from the other side of the gate. Ree and Tee were curious on seeing what it was, so we all went out into the front yard and… there had been a car crash... right at the intersection of the street."

As I speak, the long suppressed images and memories come back to me. The shouting. The smell of burnt rubber. The flipped car with the same license plate as my mom's.

"I didn't want to believe it at first, seeing the same car my mom drives all crumpled up and broken like that. I think… I think that's why I ran out to it. You know, to see if it was really her car. Most of the time now, I wish I hadn't. Gods, I really wish I hadn't now. No one… _no one_ should have to see something like that, especially at that age…"

"So… wait," Jack speaks up suddenly. "You think that it's _your_ fault she… you know… died?"

"Well… yeah," I go. "If… If I had just _walked home_, then she wouldn't have gone out shopping, which means she wouldn't have gotten in that accident. If anyone's to blame here, it's… it's me."

"No," I hear Jack say under his breath. Looking up at him, I see that he has this bewildered look in his blue eyes, like he can barely believe what he's hearing. "Hiccup. No, no, no. How… how in the world could you think that that's _your_ fault? I mean… you didn't_ know _that she would get into that car accident, did you?"

I weakly shake my head.

"Then how is it your fault? There was no way you could've known it would happen!"

"But-"

"No, Hiccup! You can't blame yourself for something like that! It wasn't your fault. You were young and you just wanted to play with your friends. There's nothing wrong with that. Your mother dying was just… it was just something that happened that couldn't be avoided."

I've heard these word over a thousand times, all coming from people like Fish and my dad trying to assure me that I'm not to blame for my mom's death. For some reason though, Jack's words strike me differently; they make it easier for me to breathe, to bear the weight of what my past holds. He hadn't been there, he hadn't even known any of us when it happened, yet he says it's not my fault. He says it with such force that it makes me believe that he doesn't just think it wasn't my fault, but that he _knows_ it wasn't.

I don't even second guess what I'm doing; I just do it. I mean, fine, I'll admit it: this white-haired weirdo is the best friend I've ever had, so walking up to him, feeling trails of tears streaming down my face again, and wrapping my arms around his body doesn't feel very unnatural to me. He doesn't hesitate to mock my embrace as I bury my face deep into his hoodie, trying to ignore the blotches of water now appearing on its surface from my tears. He's shushing me, telling me it's okay and all those usual things someone says to comfort another. I want to stop crying, since I don't even know if there are other people around to see us, but letting these tears out feels _so_ _good_. Granted, it does hurt my throat, since it's gotten all dry and coarse from yelling earlier, but I've had this sadness all crammed up inside of me all these years, and to finally let it all out… well, there's something relieving about that.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I release myself from Jack's grasp.

"It's okay," he tells me with a weak laugh. "We all need to cry sometimes."

"No, no, not for that," I correct him, wiping the remaining tears from my face. "I mean for making you race against Lout. If anything really _is_ my fault, it's that."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Jack asks. "That wasn't your fault. That was _my_ fault, all the way."

"How was that _your_ fault? I knew how dirty Lout biked, yet I still let you-"

"And _I_ knew that I didn't stand a chance, yet I still raced him. I'm to blame for that."

"No. Jack. That was is definitely my fault. I should've stopped you before you got hurt."

"But I knew I'd probably get hurt and still raced anyways! It's my fault, Hiccup!"

"You know what. How about this? How about it's _both _of our faults, okay?"

Jack raises an eyebrow at this, seeming confused at my suggestion. "_Both_ of our faults?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "Like… I'll take blame for half of it, and you take blame for the other half. That way, it's still both of our faults, but it's not _entirely _one of our faults, y'know?"

Jack, after a moment of what appears to be deep though, sticks out his hand, a mock serious expression on as he asks me, "Sounds like a deal." We shake on it, causing a smile to break across my face, a smile on his following suit.

Tooth's voice calling out for us breaks through the night air then, and following her is Astrid, looking a lot more cooled down than earlier. She's walking beside the small girl, looking down at the ground as she approaches us, only wearing a thin sweater that I know can't be keeping her warm. Tooth shoots me a warm smile as a greeting, and then turns towards the boy at my side to say, "Hey, Jack. Let's go get those blankets from my car, okay? Give these two a moment alone."

Jack doesn't protest at this suggestion. I feel him pat me gently on the back, like he's passing some of his courage over to me via touch. As him and Tooth wander off, I take a glimpse over at Astrid, standing a couple of feet away, shivering a little. That sweater of hers isn't doing her any justice and seeing her cold like this bothers me. She happens to look up as I think this, and our eyes meet for just a moment before I look away, feeling heat spread across my cheeks. I hear her sigh, and then she says, "Okay… listen… I… I stepped out of line earlier. With what I said."

I don't say anything; I don't know _what_ to say.

"I… my dad… we got in a fight earlier tonight at dinner and I just… I was already in a pretty bad mood when I arrived, y'know? And having you back into me like that… man, that just made my night even worse."

"Sorry about that again," I mumble without realizing it.

To my surprise, I hear her let out a small laugh, wrapping her arms around her waist, probably to keep herself warm. "Yeah, I know you are. And… well… I guess I'm kinda sorry too… for what I said… especially about your mom. That was completely uncalled for on _so_ many different levels."

"Tell me about it."

She shoots me a playful glare, and I weakly smile back.

"Are you still upset with me about what happened with Jack?" I decide to ask, seeing that I have her here, actually listening to me for the first time in, like, two weeks.

She shrugs, brushing her bangs out of her eyes and wrapping her arms back around herself. "Kinda, a little. But, I mean… he looks fine now, so I guess no harm done."

"He is."

"Is he upset with you for what happened?"

"No. He thinks it's his fault."

"That's bullshit."

"Yeah, I know, right? We decided that we're both to blame though, just so we could stop arguing about who's more at fault."

"That… seems pretty efficient actually."

"Yeah."

"But, uh… yeah, I guess we're all good now. Sorry again… about earlier…"

"No, no. It's… it's fine. But does this mean that you'll actually, like, talk to me when I come to The Ring now? Because I can honestly say that I was beginning to miss you picking on me every time I dropped by."

The blonde laughs a little, shaking her head. "Yeah, I guess it does. And I guess I can honestly say that I was beginning to miss your irritating sarcastic remarks to everything I say too."

A gust of chilling wind whirls around us then, and as I retreat further into my heavy jacket to avoid it, I notice Astrid shiver like crazy, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Once the wind settles down, I knew what I have to do to seal the truths we've just established between each other. I peel my jacket off of my back, hoping and praying that it's not really _that_ cold out tonight, and pass it towards her. She looks stunned at first, seeing me offer her the article of clothing, and though I can tell there's some protest in her eyes, she takes it anyways. The thing's huge on her, going well pass her knees as she pulls her arms through the bulky sleeves. After she readjusts the collar around her neck, she looks over at me, letting a small smile appear on her red cheeked face.

"Thanks, Hiccup."


	12. NOT AN UPDATE - PLEASE READ

Okay, so, wow. It's been almost a month since I've last updated and, um... that's not really normal for me.

The reason behind the absence is that things have been popping up left and right lately for me, making it rather hard to write. I'm recently a senior in high school, which means college college college and virtually no time to just sit down and do what I want. I also have a lot of art stuff going on as well, since I'm working on my college portfolio, so right now my art's a bigger priority to me than my writing. I hate saying it, but it's true.

I just wanted to make this little message for every one of my followers to see that I'm still alive and that this fic hasn't been dropped. Oh, no, no, no, I'm definitely not killing this story. I've written too much and have planned things out too far to be able to stop writing it now, trust me.

I guess what I'm saying is... well... bear with me. I'm trying my absolute hardest to find the time to write, I really am. I'm about 1/3 of the way done with chapter twelve, and I don't have much planned this upcoming weekend, so I'll probably have a lot of time to work on it then. Maybe I'll even be able to update! We'll see.

Thank you all for sticking with me and sending me such sweets reviews and stuff. It truly means a lot to me, you don't even know. (:

Also, it'd be awesome if NO ONE COULD REVIEW THIS CHAPTER. I'm just going to end up deleted it next time I update anyways, so if you have something to say to me, just shoot me a private message!


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